To Change The Things I Can
by BlossomOfSnow
Summary: Congressman Burt Hummel is assassinated, and Kurt finds himself navigating through an arena of dirty politics, encountering secrets he wasn't ready to face, and love he wasn't prepared to find. Klaine. Warnings for homophobia.
1. Chapter 1

AN: So. Hello! Hello. I'm back with another story and I have to say that I'm really nervous about posting this one. I came up with this plot about half a year ago and it niggled at the back of my head for a long time before I decided to write the first chapter. It's still under construction, as in, I'm still in the process of writing everything else, but I'm about eight chapters in already so this isn't going to take too long to finish. At any rate, the plot isn't something I would normally write because, well- for reasons I will explain later on in the story. Whatever. But yeah. I hope you let me know what you think.

**Warning** for homophobia. And character death (not K or B). So if you're triggered by these things, I don't think you'd appreciate the story.

Anyway. This has been a real challenge to write but I hope you like it.

Disclaimer- I own nothing. Also, as per usual, English isn't my first language. :)

* * *

There was a reason Kurt Hummel was a designer in New York City. There was a reason he chose the life he was living, not daring to dabble in a world far beyond his understanding. He was academically intelligent, yes, but he didn't deem it fit to immerse himself in things he had no interest in. The arts was his passion, the one thing that got him out of bed each morning and dictated the people he knew, the social circles he moved in, what he did with his weekends, and the books he read. And New York City was the center of it all, a hodge-podge, a melting pot of creative minds and thriving abundantly with imagination that Kurt never felt like he didn't belong. This was the life he dreamed of throughout high school, and he enjoyed every minute it.

So when his father decided to run for congress, he could only scoff at the idea of being involved. Politics wasn't his thing. As it was, he barely understood how it worked, and he more or less despised the people in position in his home state of Ohio. They were apathetic and insincere, and more caught up in advancing their interests than the common good. He had absolutely no interest involving himself in his father's political dreams, and chose to go on with his life in New York if only to stay as far away from the dirty thing as possible.

But he was proud, of course. He wouldn't downplay the feat his father was undertaking. He knew Burt only considered taking a position because he wanted to make big changes; big _legislative _changes because he saw how much Kurt had suffered through high school. Ohio was still largely a homophobic state despite the growing population of homosexuals taking residence. The people in government were conservative bigots Burt Hummel felt the need to change, flying under the flag of equality and equity. Seeing his son go through a public school system so tolerant of bullying and ignorance had sparked in him the burning desire to better the situation, and champion gay rights across the state no matter how idealistic and ambitious it seemed.

Kurt supported him through it, campaigning with him and declaring to the world how proud he was and how personal the cause was to make Burt Hummel's service genuine and exceptional. He loved him so much more for it, loved him for taking his fatherly love to another level and showing the world he was proud to have a gay son who was successful in his endeavors, who was kind and compassionate and more moral than any of the pigheaded men in Ohio office. Burt received the support of the LGBT community in the state, landing him a seat in congress, and a second term to boot.

In the time Burt was Congressman Hummel, he had effectively legislated a universal equality policy, mandating that all schools both public and private strictly enforce an anti-bullying campaign. It came as some sort of savior to many a teen going through some difficult times in school, with Burt recognizing how these formative years were important for a child's development. He also concerted efforts to better the employment scheme so that the non-discrimination act was widely implemented and strictly enforced. Burt also increased the number of PFLAG chapters, better championing the rights of all minority groups with such fervor that it drove the youth groups to support him in all his projects. It was the most political activism the state had seen, and it showed how positive Burt Hummel's influence was on the citizenry.

Kurt found no greater pride than in being called his father's son, happy to share his father's love and genuine concern to people, mostly teens, who had nothing and no one on their side. His father's heart was big, capable of fighting so passionately for those otherwise shunned by society.

But the biggest, most challenging feat Burt Hummel faced, and one he wanted to accomplish before his term ended, was marriage equality in the state of Ohio. It was bigger and more ambitious than anything he'd ever dreamed of, and it paved the way for more people to come to his support. He now slaved over its legislation in congress, knowing that it would mean the world for many gay couples, recognizing that no amount of discrimination could stop love from blossoming. If Congressman Hummel wanted to make a difference, a mark in history, it would be this. Marriage Equality in Ohio would be his legacy.

But no matter how much support he got from the minorities now clustered together in support, forming a magnanimous percentage of the population, those in higher office were very much against Burt and his ideals. It hurt Kurt to see his father stress over the cruelty and lack of compassion of many supposed educated men holding public positions. They were completely against Burt's convictions, and branded him brazen in their solitary, ignorant minds. He had accumulated a fair amount of political rivals, all opposed to his supposed immoral beliefs, all powerful, and all too superficial to see behind Burt's humble beginnings. Kurt's heart ached at that, knowing full well how his father was more a man than they ever would be. His father stood for something powerful, for something more socially relevant than deciding what sort of fireworks to put on display on the fourth of July. His father stood for something important and significant and life-changing, and that was met with bitter contention from those who couldn't see how big Burt's heart was.

Kurt knew how dangerous politics was, and how people lost their lives in order to uphold a certain belief. It was a thought Kurt never wanted to entertain, a prospect he wished day in and day out weren't plausible because his father meant the world to him. He would call him every night from his New York apartment and remind him of his safety, to always be vigilant and to try his best not to cross people who wouldn't think twice about ending him. It wasn't that he didn't want his father making a stand no matter how controversial. He just hated that all the attention he was getting was a threat to his safety, and Kurt's biggest fear was losing him over some homophobic asshole who just had to pull a trigger. It was in those times that Kurt realized Burt's fear when he insisted on going to Junior Prom in a kilt.

Kurt dreaded the day that his fears would materialize, feeling his heartbeat quicken at the very thought of his father, cold and dead and six feet under all because he dreamed of giving his son a chance to marry the person he loved. It seemed cruel to think about it, to think about how so many people were opposed to homosexual marriage when many straight couples didn't value it enough, divorcing here and there as if the very sanctity of marriage, of commitment, was just a game. Burt Hummel was willing to put his life on the line just to give his son all the opportunities in the world.

And in the end, that was how it came about. Kurt was interrupted from a meeting early one morning with the news of his father's death, his fear now realized and his stomach cold and heavy. It was, without a doubt, the most devastating day of his young life, and he wished never to replay those events again.

* * *

There were only a number of events in Kurt's life that he deemed significant enough to say defined him. The first was his mother's death, leaving him to fend for himself while his father tried the best he could to play both mom and dad. The next was coming out to his father, verbalizing the fact that he was gay and later on finding acceptance in his father's ministrations of love and support. The next was getting kissed by one David Karofsky, the Neanderthal who bullied him throughout high school and was later on expelled for the same bullying. The next was getting into the school of his dreams and later on establishing his own blossoming fashion line. And now, finally, his father's demise.

He wouldn't say he wasn't devastated, because he was. The moment the call ended and he was left to digest the news, nothing but cold, lonely emptiness filled him until all he could do was collapse in a fit of desperate sobbing, trying so hard to understand why a man with such a good heart was targeted so ruthlessly by men who were so rotten inside. His father's face, the picture of unconditional love, bounced thunderously in his head as he gasped for breath, unwilling to accept that he was gone. God, he was gone, and that filled Kurt with such an acute sense of anger and bitterness that he couldn't shake off no matter how much he tried.

His father was leaving the courthouse, the caller, Finn, had said. He was managing the bill of Marriage Equality, so controversial that there was widespread media coverage waiting outside the steps of the courthouse, crowding the surroundings so completely that no one could pinpoint who had pulled the trigger as Congressman Hummel exited the building. One bullet. Straight to the head. A clean kill. All captured morbidly by the running cameras of the media reporters, capturing and immortalizing the fall of the people's champion for all the world to see, and for all the world to weep over.

To the world, Congressman Hummel was dead. But to Kurt, he was more than Congressman Hummel. He was _dad_. He had lost his dad. And losing a father tore off a magnanimous part of his heart, leaving him aching and wanting with steady anguish.

"You okay?"

Kurt looked up to see Finn, his black suit crisply pressed and almost offending as he towered over him.

"As well as could be," Kurt replied, casting his eyes back to the bare wall before him, trying not to think about the reason he was currently sitting on the old couch in his home in Lima, wearing a tailored black suit identical to Finn's, and feeling like someone had disemboweled him and ripped his heart to shreds.

Finn sighed, moving to sit next to Kurt, his weight making the couch shift unpleasantly. The old couch was lumpy, and Finn avoided thinking about why it was lumpy in the first place. Burt liked to sit on just one side of it everyday, watching the game while munching on a bag of Doritos.

The funeral ended hours ago, and so had the reception. The press had a field day covering the event. Thousands upon thousands of people attended, all mourning the loss of such an influential man, filling the church and the streets and the reception and the cemetery with an overflowing of support for the family. It was a sight to behold, and Kurt would have smiled at the sight of it if it weren't for the fact that he was currently burying his father six feet below the ground, in a niche beside his mother's under an old oak tree, for him to be reduced to ashes and dust as if that was all he was ever worth.

It was nearing midnight now, and everyone was exhausted both physically and emotionally. Carole had retreated to the master bedroom, presumably to weep and hug one of Burt's favorite shirts to her chest in an effort meant to comfort her. Kurt really couldn't blame her—everyone grieved differently. Which was why he was sitting on the couch now, stoic and solid and numb. He had cried enough tears, too many of them actually that he was pretty sure there weren't any left, and he had hurt and cursed and screamed gut-wrenchingly into the night far too many times for it to be considered acceptable. He found that neither of the things helped with the pain. And goddamn it, he was allowed to hurt. He was allowed to wallow and curse and yell and fall into a depressive fit because he had lost his father, the only man who was constantly on his side, in his corner, all because he dared to profess to the world that he was proud of his son.

"Have you eaten anything?" Finn asked, his voice matching the quiet of the night. He had lost his father too, twice over now, but it hurt more this time around.

Kurt kept his eyes fixed ahead but shook his head slowly. "I'm not very hungry," he replied, his voice emotionless.

"Man, you gotta eat something," Finn said, casting Kurt a worried glance as he picked on the material of his black slacks. "You haven't had a decent meal in—"

"Four days," Kurt cut off. "I know. Four days."

Finn nodded quietly. Four days. Burt had been dead four days. "Yeah," he whispered, turning to face the wall completely, imitating Kurt's position that echoed every anguish now currently consuming his heart.

"I don't understand," Kurt said, his voice hoarse. "Dad was... God, he was so... He was everything. How could anyone just... Take him? Take him away and kill him? Who does that?"

Truthfully, Finn wanted to know, too. Finn wanted to know how people could have all the room in their hearts for hate, and how people could ever justify taking another person's life. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. And in Finn's troubled mind, he questioned all of his innocent beliefs, trying to decipher why anyone would antagonize someone who only fought for what was good and right.

"I don't know, Kurt," he answered honestly, looking confused as he cast his eyes to the ground. "Bad people, I guess."

Kurt sighed. Finn's thought process may have been simplistic, but it was fundamentally true. Bad people. Bad people killed his father.

"I wish I could tell you how angry I am," Kurt said. All his emotions were convoluted now, a dark mass of pain and hurt and anger and frustration and disappointment all fighting for dominance. "I wish I could tell you just how much I want to rip whoever did this to shreds, to make them know _pain_," he said, his eyes tearing up again as he tried to control his breathing. "But I can't... Because I can't even make sense of everything. A part of me still doesn't believe this is really happening—that my dad is dead and we're here and I just..."

"I know," Finn said, feeling his own eyes water. "But we won't let them get away with this, Kurt. Nobody will just let this slide." Because it was true. Judging by the sheer volume of people who came out to watch Burt Hummel's funeral procession, no one was going to sweep this under a rug. There were protests everywhere now, small and big but all fighting for one thing: justice. "We'll find who did this and we'll fight."

Kurt shook his head, the tears now falling unabashedly down his cheeks as he buried his face in his hands. "God, I just want my dad back," he sobbed, feeling his soul rip to shreds in agony and denial.

Finn could only stare at Kurt's shaking figure, feeling all of his pain transcend the heaviness in the room.

He wanted Burt back, too.

* * *

Soooooooo. Ta-da? Haha. Please let me know what you think. :) B makes an appearance in the next chapter. :) I forgot to mention that the title comes from the Serenity Prayer. :)


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hi! Guys, thanks so much for reading and reviewing and following the first chapter. I'm always extremely antsy when I post a new story, but thanks for reading. :) The second chapter is up, and Blaine makes an appearance. I'm still struggling with keeping the characters are true to their personalities as possible, but I'm trying I promise. I also never knew how much people appreciate Kurt/Finn interactions, so I was pleasantly surprised. There's a ton of brotherly Furt in this story. :)

Thanks, guys! As always, I do not own anything, and English isn't my first language. =)

* * *

Vindictive wasn't necessarily a word to describe Kurt Hummel. He could be petty sometimes, yes, but he never acted on the pettiness for the sole reason of getting back at someone. He always felt it was juvenile trying to get even, especially when you can show everyone, yourself included, that you could be the bigger person and act mature. The most Kurt would be when he was feeling petty was passive-aggressive, because otherwise, he thrived on confrontation and let his sharp tongue cut and slice with words and insults sometimes too much for a regular man to understand. But Kurt was never vindictive. He never fancied himself vindictive. But right now, that was all he could think about being.

He didn't know what woke him up, but he was well aware of how his eyes were heavy and how his body ached out of sheer exhaustion. It was early, too early for him to be awake after the week he'd had. But he couldn't sleep well, not since the day his dad died, and knew he wouldn't be able to sleep well still until he found justice for him.

He supposed that that was just it—the only thing pushing him to get out of bed every morning was the burning desire to find whoever killed his father and make him know pain. It was the only thing coursing through his veins, alive and pulsating and forcing him to fight, to find the willpower to survive if only to show to the world how much he loved his father in return. Burt had never shied away from declaring just how much Kurt mattered to him, so why should Kurt?

He'd never known this kind of sadness existed before. Sure he lost his mother when he was eight, but he was ready for that. She had been sick for a while and he had some time to get used to the idea of not living everyday with her. It still hurt, of course, but the hurt was different. Now, the hurt was amplified a thousand fold, filling all of his senses and saturating his being as if it were the only thing that existed. He hated it, hated how heavy his heart felt and how displaced he was in the wake of his father's demise. But if only to honor his father's memory, he would carry on.

The tentative knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts, forcing him to stretch his limbs and climb out of bed tiredly. The door opened slowly, Finn poking his head through the tiny gap with a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Kurt."

"Finn," he greeted, running his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair while standing in the middle of the room.

"There's a protest at ten today. Lots of people are coming. It's one of the bigger ones," Finn said, resting his hand on the doorknob. "Do you wanna go?"

Finn had been part of Burt's executive team. He handled much of the politics because he surprisingly had a knack for it. Kurt was glad because Finn finally found his place, his forte, all the while being steady support for his dad in times Kurt couldn't. Finn was heavily involved, and he could never dispute the fact that Finn had lost a father, too. Finn loved Burt just as much as Kurt did.

Kurt stared at Finn tiredly before nodding. Yes, he wanted to go. Because yes, he wanted to protest his father's death in every way possible. If he had to rally and lobby and kill with his bare hands, he would. As it was, there was heavy media coverage on the issue, with a special spotlight directed on Kurt because, well, he was the gay son Burt spoke frequently of and fought passionately for. Kurt would have used that to his advantage, and used every avenue to encourage the people to seek justice, and force the man who pulled the trigger to come out of hiding—he would if he weren't so fatigued from everything. He was never a fan of airing his dirty laundry for all the world to see, and he definitely didn't want the world scrutinizing the way he grieved his father's death.

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "I want to go."

Finn nodded. "We'll leave at 9:30," he said, then offered Kurt a sad smile before shutting the door.

Kurt sighed. He wished dressing up for the all the world to scrutinize didn't feel like such a chore. He was a designer for goodness' sake, and he lived and breathed fashion under the spotlight. But now, needing to look presentable when all he wanted to do was bury himself under the covers and sob his heart out, everything felt like a chore.

Mechanically, he got himself ready, trotted down the stairs for an extra large serving of coffee and kissed Carole on cheek with as much affection as he could muster considering how heavy he felt. Carole offered him a small smile in return, pulled him close and held him tight for a moment before releasing.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked, her voice forcibly cheerful, a stark contrast to her red, swollen eyes, a sure sign that she had spent the entire night crying.

Kurt shrugged, taking a seat in the dining table and warming his hands around the coffee cup. "Not well," he admitted. It wasn't as if he had to lie and pretend he was okay. Nobody was okay.

Carole smiled sympathetically. "Me, too."

Kurt nodded, casting his eyes to the table. "I want to believe that it gets better."

"It will," she replied, moving to sit next to him and taking his hand to squeeze lightly. "It'll get better."

Finn chose that moment to walk through the kitchen, looking respectable in his crisp white polo tucked neatly in a pair of good fitting jeans. For all intents and purposes, he looked so much more presentable than Kurt did, who was wearing a simple black Lacoste shirt and jeans.

"You ready?" Finn asked, his eyes sweeping over Kurt as he pulled a mug out of the cupboard.

Kurt nodded, taking a sip of his coffee and watching Finn pour himself a mug then move to kiss Carole on the forehead. Finn was so much more put together than he was. He had grown so much in the past years that it was hard to see a reflection of the lanky football player he had been once upon a time. And for that, Kurt was grateful. The effort to be strong took its toll on him, and he was glad for the burden being shared by a step-brother he was beyond appreciating now.

With a quiet sigh, Kurt picked himself up from the seat, waving a sad goodbye to Carole before following Finn out to the car.

"There's gonna be a lot of press there, Kurt," Finn warned, a briefing of sorts for what to expect. "So you better be prepared to talk to a few people."

Kurt knew he couldn't avoid that. He was bound to speak the perfunctory words of grief, and even stronger, more passionate words of encouragement for people to take it out to the streets and protest the unjust assassination of his father. "Anything in particular you want me to say?" he asked dryly.

Personally, Kurt wanted nothing to do with it. Yes, he wanted to find who killed his father, but had no desire of making a spectacle out of it. He wanted to grieve in peace, to deal with his sorrow quietly and away from the spotlight. The most sure way to do that was to fly back to New York where no one cared that he was Congressman Hummel's son, just that he was Kurt Hummel, up and coming designer. But his desire to spend this hard time with his family, longing to be near them severely outweighed his selfish desire to sulk all on his own. His family needed him, and he needed them, and if being with his family also meant being a little less reticent about his emotions, then so be it.

Finn shook his head. "Not really, no. But try to act... I don't know? Pitiful?" he asked unsurely, his tone unusually high as if he knew what Kurt's reaction to that would be. Kurt hated pity, and he hated looking weak. "The press will dig that."

Finn was very much a political man now, a social animal influenced heavily by the dirty world of law making and press. He wasn't trying to tell Kurt how to feel or how to act, but he knew the workings of the people far better than Kurt did.

"No," Kurt replied at once, indignant. "No. That's really low, Finn. It's part of dirty politics. Appealing to people's pity is just... No." Because it was beyond him, beyond Kurt to stoop so low as to move people with pity for him if only to help him with his cause. He would do this with or without their help. He didn't need to look so miserable in the process.

Kurt was the picture of strength, and Finn accepted that. But Finn wasn't as strong as Kurt was, and if he needed to act so fallaciously in order to win their support, he would. Argumentum ad misericordiam. An appeal to people's pity. It was dirty, yes, and wrong on so many levels. But their cause was good, and they weren't doing it for corruption. They were doing it for Burt. The end justified the means.

"Kurt, I think it'll be good for the—"

"No, Finn," Kurt said firmly. "Dad stood for clean politics, and we will do the same. We will face this issue and find justice rightly. Properly. So no."

Finn sighed, resisting the urge to smack the wheel in frustration. "Fine," he replied. "Then you better be prepared to hold your ground. These protests are overwhelming. Don't breakdown or fall apart," he warned, half out of spite and sarcasm, and half out of genuine worry.

"Don't worry," Kurt replied, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead. "I've got it under control."

Finn nodded wordlessly, and the rest of the drive was filled with silence.

Kurt was trying to understand his emotions. He was numb one minute, then extremely sorrowful the next, then immensely determined after that. He supposed that the emotion that needed to dominate was strength, of mind and of character, because the most immediate concern was to sanction whoever did this to his father. The grieving could come after. The emptiness could come after. Right now, what was important was the justice, and that was what he would fight for, maybe not in the way Finn was doing it, like lobbying and organizing some massive, wide scale protest, but he was fighting.

Rounding the corner, Kurt caught sight of the monstrous crowd populating one of Lima's busiest streets, colorful and angry and so far from dispassionate. Even from inside the car, the crowd was loud, their placards all screaming for equality and equity. It was a sight to behold, like a combination of a gay pride parade and a people power revolution rolled into the main streets of freaking Lima, Ohio. It was unheard of in this tiny city, and Kurt's heart felt overwhelmed with emotion. Everybody out there was supporting his father, supporting his family. And even though he'd seen the same crowd at the funeral, it was so vastly different seeing them less than somber, and more spirited in their gathering. It filled Kurt with an acute sense of purpose, of belief that he could somehow follow in his father's footsteps if only to create some semblance of rightness for him and for these people searching in earnest for some sort of savior.

Finn swerved the car and parked it in a nearby street before he ushered Kurt towards the epicenter of the protest, screaming and passionate lashing filling his ears as they wove their way through the multitude of people. For the most part, Kurt was hypnotized by the display, mindlessly allowing Finn to pull him through the crowd and to a congregation of what he assumed was some important people.

As they neared, Finn pulled Kurt closer, resting his hand on the small of Kurt's back in an effort to shield him from the people. They stopped about a foot from a man with blonde hair, wearing a crisp grey suit and a black tie.

"Jeff," Finn greeted, holding his hand out to shake.

"Finn," Jeff smiled, shaking Finn's hand firmly.

"Kurt, this is Jeff Sterling, one of Burt's executive officers," Finn said as he turned to Kurt. "He organized this protest."

Kurt nodded, smiling briefly at the man. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sterling. My name's Kurt."

"I know," Jeff smiled, extending his hand to shake Kurt's. "You're the infamous Kurt. Your dad spoke very highly of you."

Kurt cracked a small, pitiful smile at that. "Thank you."

Jeff cocked his head before he gestured for the man behind him to step forward. "Finn, you remember Nick? Nick is my boyfriend," Jeff said to Kurt. "He works with the law firm your dad was closely affiliated with."

Nick nodded, offering Kurt a kind smile. "Nick Duval. It's good to meet you."

"Likewise."

"We're really sorry about your dad," Nick said apologetically. "Congressman Hummel was a good man."

Kurt smiled wordlessly, accepting the condolence like it was second nature. He'd heard every variation of that line in the past week that he was sure he was going to vomit the thought out soon. But he remained polite, knowing that most people who offered their condolence were sincere. Burt touched a lot of people, and made an impact on so many lives that the outpouring of love was hardly surprising.

Clearing his throat, Finn looked between the three men before turning to address Jeff. "Any lead on the investigation?"

Jeff shrugged. "The police finished going through all the surveillance videos last night. They saw the hand with the gun come up through the crowd, but no face."

"What about the bullet? Have ballistics been able to match it?"

"Not yet," Jeff answered. "But don't think there aren't any leads. Nick's firm has been working non-stop to find evidence against some key suspects."

"Key suspects?" Kurt asked, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at Nick. "You have suspects for a _gunman_?" The thought seemed almost implausible. For all they knew, the gunman was somewhere in the crowd now, joining the protest as if he hadn't just taken a life. Looking for a gunman was like looking for a needle in a haystack, so pardon Kurt for sounding utterly incredulous.

"We believe this was a job order killing," Nick explained, sensing Kurt's doubts. "Hired gunman, if you will. Your dad had some pretty powerful political rivals. We wouldn't put it past them to order a killing."

Kurt cringed visibly. Saying it was a killing, or man-slaughter, made it sound so crudely brutal, almost as if the murder was done in some secluded warehouse, all bloody and morbid and not under the watchful eyes of the entire media as he left the courthouse from a hearing.

"Who are you looking into?" Kurt asked a little weakly, his voice drowned out by the sound of the protest around him. There was a stage set-up on the street, with a protest leader hyping the crowd up, encouraging them to make all the noise they could. But in that moment, Kurt felt almost secluded, like he wasn't in the center of such a cacophony. It was like there was a bubble existing around them, isolating them from the general populace.

"We've narrowed it down to two people," Finn answered for Nick. "Attorney Peter Bradford and John Hamilton. Well. Congressman John Hamilton."

Peter Bradford spoke very openly about his distaste of everything about Burt Hummel, attacking his meager beginnings and his lack of formal political education. He was essentially harmless if one didn't take into account that he came from a political clan, a dynasty if you will. Meanwhile, John Hamilton was the man who ran against Burt on his second term, an open homophobe and a very powerful man in general. He came from a rich family, with a trophy wife and two sons, one of which he barely spoke to because of some "questionable life choices", while the other apparently did not associate with the family anymore because he was gay. John Hamilton had kicked his own son out as soon as he came out, and encouraged the citizenry to do the same to their queer children. It was a blatant, sick display of homophobia that had Burt Hummel protesting wildly. John Hamilton assumed the seat in congress after Burt died, causing more uproar in the gay community when he won the snap elections. There was doubt about the honesty and validity of the elections but everyone was more occupied by Burt's death than John Hamilton's rise to power. Between the two suspects, John Hamilton had more motive for Burt's killing, gaining more from his death than Peter Bradford. But they needed hard, solid evidence to tie him to the conspiracy, which was what Nick's law firm was working towards.

The bitterness in Finn's voice as he stressed the word congressman before the name sent a shiver down Kurt's spine. John Hamilton was malicious and condescending and entirely unfit to lead a people into progress. He was too far back in his head and didn't appreciate change and adaptability, choosing instead to uphold his conservative beliefs and impose them on the people. If Kurt had to associate bigotry with a man, he would undoubtedly associate it with him.

"But you don't need to concern yourself with that," Nick said to Kurt a little worriedly, noting his distress. "We'll handle that ourselves, and Finn is very involved. You only need to worry about being some sort of... Icon for these people so that we continue to get press coverage. The more media covering the issue, the better. It pressures people to find answers."

Kurt nodded mutely, trying very hard to keep up with the information. He reckoned it was like being the Queen, who didn't really hold that much power politics-wise, but served more as symbol for the people, a shining icon meant to encourage and uplift. The idea was acutely disturbing.

"Wes Montgomery is on his way," Jeff continued as he tucked phone into his suit pocket. "Wes is our contact from the CIA, and he's reviewing the federal files for us. He's worked closely with Burt throughout his term."

"You don't have to worry about anything," Finn said to Kurt, turning his body so he could rest his concerned gaze on his brother. "I know this is a bit overwhelming, but we have a capable team here."

Kurt would have snorted at that had the situation been different. There was something bordering hilarious about Finn telling him it was okay to be overwhelmed because, well, Finn was usually the slower of the two of them. But Kurt found comfort in the fact that Finn was taking control of the situation and allowing him his space to grieve in any capacity he could.

He stood by what he wanted. He wouldn't get involved. No press for him, and no upfront rallies. He wasn't the type of man to draw attention to his hurts. And if it weren't for the recognition of his family's value, he would have erected thick, impenetrable walls around himself just like he did when his mother died. The only thing that prevented him from essentially turning into some insipid shell was the idea of disrespecting his father's memory by being so.

Smiling in appreciation at Nick and Jeff, Kurt allowed himself to be taken over by the crowd, filling his senses with the noise that seemed almost comforting to him now. It was still a little hard to grasp that there were men who wanted his father dead. Yes, he had been wary of the concept at first, telling his father to be careful. But now, everything was real and tangible and concrete before him. His father was dead, and the people who wanted him so had succeeded.

It was a moment later before he felt Finn turn around and greet a man formally. Kurt closed his eyes, counted to three to compose himself, before he turned around himself and offered a congenial albeit strained smile at the man Finn had greeted.

"I'm Wes Montgomery," the man said. He was small and Asian, but looked to be very professional. Kurt knew instantly this man took his job seriously. "I work with the team now assembled to find the man who—"

"Killed my father, of course," Kurt said, keeping the stress out of his voice as he offered Wes his hand. Wes seemed a little taken aback but shook his hand anyway. "I'm Kurt Hummel. Thank you for coming today."

"It's my pleasure," Wes said, smiling at Kurt as he motioned for the man beside him to step in closer. "May I introduce Blaine Anderson? He's an old friend of mine, flew in to Ohio after Congressman Hummel's demise. He's very..."

"Affected," Blaine supplied, offering Kurt a smile and his hand to shake. "My deepest condolences Mister Hummel. Your father was an inspiration."

For some reason, Kurt could not take his eyes off of the man before him. He was slightly smaller than Kurt, his hair slicked back and his hazel eyes piercing as he introduced himself to Kurt. Had Kurt been in a better state, he would have noticed how severely good looking this Blaine Anderson was.

"Call me Kurt, please," Kurt said. "And thank you."

Blaine nodded and took his hand back, tilting his head to stare curiously at Kurt as he engaged in a discussion with Finn and Wes.

To Blaine, Kurt was beautiful, and almost tragically so. With his porcelain skin and blue eyes, coupled with the sadness lining his features, he was a sight to behold. He knew from watching the press that Kurt Hummel was gay, and that his father was a constant support to him. But seeing him now, in person and not just on TV or in photos online, Kurt looked like he needed a savior just as much as the people in the protest did.

He wasn't going to pretend he knew the man, but he also wasn't going to pretend that a shame-filled part of himself wasn't intrigued. The media had hyped the interest on Kurt since Burt ran for congress, and now even more so after his death. Blaine had a natural curiosity for Kurt, wanting to know him just as much as everyone else did because he was so enigmatic sometimes. Oh, he spoke very freely of his support for his father, but he never spoke of anything in his personal life, or about his journey, or about his experiences that led his father to the position he was in. He was reticent, and rightfully so. But Blaine couldn't help the want to get to know him, if only to be able to extend to Kurt just how much appreciation he had for his father.

Growing up in Ohio meant he himself didn't have the best opportunities. And living in a suffocating household, he often hoped that someone would just do _something _to shake things up a bit and make it better for people like him. He was already in California, living with his brother, when Burt had assumed a seat in congress, and Blaine had been an avid supporter from Day 1. Burt Hummel may not have changed his life directly, but knowing how someone was fighting for the rights of people like him inspired him immensely. And now here, being in the presence of Burt Hummel's son, a man he had only come to know through press coverage, all Blaine wanted to do was know his story, know everything about him, and then thank him for his strength and for consequently inspiring Burt to make a difference.

Blaine was interrupted from his thoughts when he heard Wes mention his name, snapping him out of his trance and forcing him to listen.

"Blaine here flew in from California two nights ago to support the cause," Wes was saying, gesturing towards Blaine's general direction.

"Did you grow up in Ohio, Blaine?" Finn asked, his gaze landing squarely on him.

He nodded quickly. "Went to high school with Wes actually."

"You went to high school with Wes?" Finn asked, his brows furrowing. "That means you know Nick and Jeff."

"I do," Blaine chuckled, noting Finn's tone. "Dalton Academy in Westerville."

Finn frowned, a little reminiscent of the Finn from high school, confused to no end but delightful when enlightened. "Man, you're all like... Prep school boys. Did that prep school make you gay?"

"Finn!" Kurt exclaimed sharply, paling a little at Finn's tactlessness. For all of the things Finn was now, it was sometimes hard to shake off his innocent ignorance. Turning to Wes and Blaine in apology, Kurt sighed. "Please forgive him, he means no offense."

Finn looked sheepish. "Sorry, dudes. It's just that everyone I've met from—"

"Stop talking Finn," Kurt sighed, shaking his head as he brought his hand up to his forehead. He was mildly embarrassed for Finn, a slight blush now coloring his cheeks. "Sorry Wes, Blaine. Finn can be a little dense sometimes."

Wes seemed like he was trying to hold in his laughter, biting his lip and looking at the ground in amusement. Blaine was chuckling, rather enjoying Kurt's frustration as Finn cast his eyes to the ground, appropriately chastised.

"None taken," Blaine said kindly. "Dalton does sort of give off the impression of being a gay school, but that's only because we have a zero-tolerance bullying policy strictly enforced, even before your dad mandated it state-wide."

Wes nodded in agreement. "So as a result, we sort of became a haven of sorts for those having a hard time at school," he explained.

"I actually came to Dalton specifically for it," Blaine continued, licking his lips as he looked between Finn and Kurt. "School was tough, so was home, so I dormed at Dalton for the rest of high school. Really helped me survive." Blaine paused, glancing at Kurt and shrugging. "It's why I appreciate your dad a lot. I know Dalton's policy really saved my life, and that it could have saved many others were they able to afford tuition. But your dad made the policy, and it really made safety so much more accessible to people like me. Like us. I can only imagine how many lives that saved."

Kurt tried not to let his eyes water, so he bit lip and nodded once, a gesture meant to convey how much he appreciated Blaine's kind words. It wasn't the first time he'd heard someone say kind things about his dad, but hearing from someone _just like him_, who lived and breathed the same hostility made him feel an inexplicable desire to resurrect his father from the dead and tell him to look around and see how much he had done for the people of Ohio.

"It's always great to hear about how Burt's changed lives," Finn said, casting a quick glance at Kurt while he steadied himself. "We never knew how much good he was doing until he was gone."

Blaine smiled sadly. "It's unfortunate, but it's true," he said earnestly

Kurt nodded, his voice sounding hoarse. "Thank you, Blaine."

Hearing Blaine speak so passionately about Burt's role in his life made Kurt's heart ache. If he could only hug his father really tight right now, and tell him over and over how much he appreciated him and how lucky he was to have him, he would. God, if people knew just what he'd give up to have one last conversation with his dad, he was sure he would leave no doubt as to how affected he was by all of this.

But Blaine's words, and Blaine's story, made his heart burn with desire to meet other people Burt's helped, to hear their stories and realize how Burt had changed them. Kurt wanted to document all of the beauty Burt had created, and build a box of so many beautiful memories if only to never forget what Burt had sacrificed for him.

Tentatively, Kurt turned to Finn in question, feeling a little unsure and a little silly for sounding sentimental in front of people he knew all of five minutes. "Would it be alright with you if I took off from this politics stuff for a few days?" he asked quietly, voice just enough for Finn to hear clearly, and the others to understand if they strained their ears enough. "I want to hear stories just like Blaine's, go around Ohio and hear them for myself." And he wanted to _hear _them told to him face to face, not through some impersonal online campaign that endeavored to collect stories for the sake of it. No, he needed tangible reaching out and hearing out and sharing. He had no doubt in his mind Finn could keep the campaign going; he had been doing it for a while. But Kurt just needed to get away from how discombobulated the politics made him feel and just reconnect with who he knew his father was in some strangely intimate way.

Finn shrugged resignedly. "I know you're going to do this whether or not I say yes," he said knowingly, trying as hard as he can to be supportive. The idea was a little strange, admittedly, but if it would help his brother, he would allow it. "So yeah, I guess, whatever makes you happy."

Kurt nodded. "No press. I don't need the world watching me do this. It's personal," he settled, licking his lips and banishing the pain from his heart for a moment. The idea of being some sort of weird gay icon for these people in the face of his father's death didn't exactly sit well with him. It seemed superficial, like he was doing it for show, an affectation of sorts.

"What are you going to do?" Finn asked, watching Kurt carefully now. He knew how deeply affected Kurt was, but he didn't know how much it moved Kurt to hear Blaine's story, hear how great a man his dad was. If Burt didn't get his legacy, as in the Marriage Equality bill, then he was going to prove that he had left a different sort of legacy, one more personal and more sentimental than any legislation.

"I... Want to hear people's stories," Kurt answered carefully. "Blaine... Dad helped Blaine indirectly and it just... Would it sound totally crazy if I said I felt closer to him after hearing Blaine's story?"

Finn smiled sadly. "Not at all." He didn't understand the entirety of it, but he knew where Kurt was coming from. Even he was looking for some way to feel closer to Burt, to not feel as displaced as he truly was.

Kurt did feel so much closer to his dad. Hearing how he had touched lives allowed him to share in a different part of Burt with others, and made him feel so much prouder to be his son. It was a sense of purpose Kurt didn't have when he woke up that day, and he reveled in the uplifting that was a stark contrast to the misery he felt not twenty four hours ago.

"It's just... I don't really know where to start," Kurt admitted uncertainly. He was sure all the people in the protest now were moved one way or another. But he wanted personal stories and real people with real lives. He needed to share a part of his heart so that people would share a part of theirs too.

"I can help with that," Blaine volunteered, looking so sure and maybe a little too enthusiastic. "I mean, I won't be flying back to California for while; need to keep an eye out for my mom. And I could help you figure out where to start." He offered Kurt a crooked, self-conscious smile, suddenly aware of how Kurt was looking at him.

Offering a small smile in gratitude, Kurt shrugged. "Only if you aren't busy."

"I know people," Blaine reassured. "We can start with them. People from Dalton. Then we'll go from there."

Kurt looked at Finn for approval, not really sure if he could trust Blaine and if he was doing the right thing. But Blaine looked nice enough, and Kurt was really moved by his words. Finn nodded encouragingly, wanting Kurt to find meaning and stop moping and find a different sense of fulfillment. He knew that Kurt's pain stemmed partly from the fact that he was living in New York for the better part of Burt's terms, and that he saw him only every so often. Kurt felt so detached from Burt, and Finn understood that he needed to feel as close to him as possible in however way he could manage. Finn reckoned he could handle everything else, anyway. He was hurting, yes, but if Kurt would find purpose hearing stories and sharing lives, then Finn found purpose actively hunting down the man who killed their father. All the Call of Duty games he played in high school drilled something in his head, he supposed.

"Go ahead, Kurt. I think it'll be good for you."

Wes chose that moment to add his two cents. "Blaine's really good with people. You have nothing to worry about."

Kurt glanced at Blaine, who smiled at him a little unsurely. With a resolute nod of his head, Kurt offered a small smile. "Thank you."

Blaine could only nod back in welcome before Kurt and Finn were being ushered away to be interviewed by the press, feeling his heart beat in anticipation, not only because he was getting to know Kurt Hummel, but because what they were about to undertake also filled him with purpose.

* * *

It's... sentimental, I know. :)) But when my grandfather died, I felt every need to feel closer to him and I felt like I accomplished that whenever people would tell stories about him. I'm not saying Kurt and I are the same but I feel like it's a nice avenue for Kurt to explore his hurts, and for Blaine to help him through the difficult time. :)

Anyway. Thanks for reading, guys. :)


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapter, also for following this story and adding it to your favorites. This is part three, and there's some nice K + B interaction. :) Anyway. Yeah. Hope you like this chapter!

I still own nothing. And English still isn't my first language. :))

* * *

Kurt was a man of control. He valued it well and was proud of the fact that he was always afloat of his emotions, no matter how unstable he was expected to be given the circumstances. Everything in his life was under his control, and he was the captain of every undertaking he deemed important enough to give time and effort to. But right now, he felt paper thin, stretched extremely wide to the end of his patience as he sat in front of the television, his fists clenched at his sides and his anger seething in staccato waves. Beside him, Finn and Carole were quiet too, silently processing what was being aired on television.

It showed Congressman John Hamilton addressing the members of the press, his grey suit a stark contrast to the blue background holding Ohio's seal. His words were incongruous to his body language, speaking thoughts of sympathy and equity but all together seeming smug and almost triumphant despite the sadness he was supposed to be emanating.

"_We are deeply saddened by the loss of one of our own true-bred Ohioans. Congressman Burt Hummel was an inspiration, a shining example of value and hard work_," the Congressman was saying, reading from the script and adding to the ingenuity of his statement. "_His was a success story, starting with his meager beginnings as a mechanic, and moving up to be a congressman even without the proper education—a remarkable feat and an impressive way to succeed in life. He served as an inspiration and fought very passionately for the rights of the people, even if sometimes, he was a little left field. But misguided though he was, we are indeed very honored and sincerely grateful to have been served by such a noble man, and I promise to uphold the same dignity and perseverance in serving the people of Ohio._"

Kurt's body was still, reeling infinitely from the insincerity dripping from the man on screen. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this man, this _beast _ordered his father's death. If his smugness and his oddly triumphant state weren't clue enough, his words should have set the meter ticking insanely. Although Kurt wasn't sure, a magnanimous part of him believed that the man on television was behind it entirely. Truth be told, practically anyone could have done it, and it was possible that it wasn't a job order killing. His father's controversial stand didn't just garner him enemies on the political front, but with the regular citizenry as well. Many of Ohio's residents were still severely homophobic, and Kurt wouldn't put it past them to take their ignorance to the next level, to take control of situation themselves. But John Hamilton's words were an indirect insult, underlying with so much discourtesy masked in fake support, almost radiating a sick sense of championship that didn't sit well with Kurt.

"_We extend our deepest condolences to the Hummel family, now surely going through a devastating time. We sincerely pray that God will grant them the strength to overcome this obstacle as we pray for the soul of Burt Hummel. May the good Lord forgive him his sins, and may he rest in peace_," John Hamilton concluded, nodding slightly as the press started asking questions about his term in congress.

He had replaced Burt through a dubious win of the snap elections. And with the replacement, everyone knew the Marriage Equality Act Burt was fighting so fiercely for would gather dust, or worse, be destroyed all together. John Hamilton and Burt Hummel did not stand for the same things, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that John sought to eviscerate all Burt had worked for in congress.

Kurt wasn't aware that his breathing had gone deep, a sure sign that he was fuming. There was hate flowing freely through his veins—hate he never knew he could possess. He used to use the term so loosely, saying he hated printed leggings, or hated the new Taylor Lautner movie, or hated the scarf the woman was wearing. But now, he finally understood what it really felt like to _hate_people, to hate someone, to hate so passionately that it was all that he was aware of, saturating his every thought and reminding him of every way he could loathe a person. It wasn't a pleasant feeling; it made him feel contained and a vast contradiction to the man his father raised him to be. He was taught to always see the best in people. But he was so blinded with hate right now that all he could see was John Hamilton and his faults and the words of cruel ingenuity flowing out of his mouth.

"I want to punch that dude straight in the face," Finn muttered, resisting the urge to throw his fist against the screen.

"Finn," Carole reprimanded quietly, her black dress bunched between the couch and her legs.

Finn shook his head, standing up and grabbing the remote control from the coffee table before shutting the TV off. "He makes me so fucking mad."

And he wasn't alone in that. Kurt wasn't saying a word but inside, he was screaming every profanity in the book, cursing the man's existence for daring to insult his father that way. He claimed he had morals, but what kind of person with morals insulted a dead man? Or what kind of person with morals killed a man in the first place? It wasn't right. None of this was right.

"Just leave it Finn," Kurt said tiredly, running his fingers through his hair, now kept free from any product. He was looking a little more presentable today. Perhaps not as outlandish and thought-of as he normally would, but his white polo did make him look more respectable. It was a world of difference from the mess inside of him, almost as if his clothes and the way he looked so put together were a shield, a cover of sorts to hide the entropy now causing chaotic havoc through his emotions.

Finn shook his head, pacing the space behind the couch and muttering an angry diatribe about morals and service and other things Kurt really didn't want to hear about right now.

It was strange. He woke up that morning still feeling heavy, but also feeling like he was floating, like none of this was real. Rationally he knew his father was still dead, and that no amount of grieving would bring him back. But he felt like his feet weren't touching the ground, as if he was stuck in limbo somewhere, trying to make sense of the mess he was in and sort out his emotions. The hate was weighing him down, but at the same time, the knowledge that they weren't sitting idly by and letting this pass comforted him. The idea that so many people were on their side left him feeling like something good could come out of his father's death, that he could unite the people and stir some political disorder and make absolute change. But still, no matter the resolution, he was still stuck, weighed down by the simple fact that his father was dead.

"I don't understand how both of you can just watch that stupid thing and not feel so much _rage_."

"Just because we aren't reacting as passionately as you are doesn't mean we aren't affected," Kurt snapped, his patience on edge as the exhaustion from the previous days caught up with him. "All this groaning will get us nowhere." He would rather they be productive.

From her seat on the couch, Carole sighed. "Kurt's right, Finn," she said quietly. "Reacting this way won't do us any good. We all need to force ourselves to be okay. Okay, honey?" Because it was true. Moping wasn't going to do them any good. And no matter how difficult it was to accept, life went on and they had to move forward along with it. Time doesn't stop, not even for death.

Finn sighed, his jaw clenched as he stared at a spot on the floor. "None of this is right."

"Or fair," Carole supplied quietly. "But it's the hand we were dealt with and we need to react accordingly."

Kurt sometimes wondered how Carole kept herself together despite the tragedy. She'd had to bury two husbands now, and Kurt knew that couldn't be easy. But now, when everything was falling apart and everything hurt like you wouldn't imagine, Carole still kept them together, and held them strongly despite her own pain.

"Get your things together, Finn," she murmured, standing up from the couch and kissing them both on the cheek before she retreated to the bedroom. The boys needed to be at the office, where they could spend their time doing _something_, or anything instead of moping miserably.

Finn took a moment before he heaved a heavy sigh and collected his briefcase, his lips pressed into a thin line as he struggled to contain himself.

"Let's go, man," he muttered, barely glancing at Kurt as he trudged to the front door.

Kurt sighed. He could understand Finn's anger, and Finn's frustration, and Finn's utter abhorrence for the congressman. And now more than ever, he could understand the frustration bleeding into every aspect of their lives, filling every moment of the day with heaviness that was suffocating. But he knew it would get them nowhere if they dwelled on it, if they let it consume them and affect their work. John Hamilton's words were angering, that much was given. But Kurt couldn't let that dictate how things went on from there. He couldn't let anyone see how affected he was by John Hamilton's words. The energy it took to hate him wasn't worth it. He'd rather use the energy hating him to find the man who killed his father—at least then he'd be productive.

Picking his own satchel up and his car keys, Kurt followed suit and buckled himself up in his old Navigator, set to convoy with Finn to the office. Something about his old car made him feel sixteen again, on the brink of adulthood and undecided on the idea of needing his father constantly and craving his independence. Most teenagers needed some degree of freedom, separation from their parents like the craving for liberation was the only thing they needed to breathe. But Kurt never felt that full force. Yes, he wanted independence, but he couldn't dispute how much more he valued his father during those years, when the bullying was bad and there was absolutely no one on his side.

He sighed, hitting the main road as he trailed behind Finn and wondered how he would pick up the pieces from there. He felt like he was wandering blindly, like he didn't really know exactly what he was doing because, well, the last time he lost a parent he was eight and he hadn't necessarily understood everything. But now, he understood everything, and it hurt.

It hurt to think of how he had lost his father, and hurt to think that life went on, that life stopped for nothing, not even death. That hurt settled into his bones, filled his senses with an acute sense of pain he wished never to experience again. When his mother died, he could scarcely understand the gravity of the situation, and he had his father to cushion that fall and make sure his life was as comfortable and normal as possible despite the loss. But now that his father wasn't there to hold his hand, it almost felt like he was drowning, or falling in a bottomless pit without anyone to save him.

And then he thought about what he was setting out to do, sweeping through Ohio to collect stories and listen to real experiences, real changes his father had made, and thought that this might be the rope, the olive branch, the extension of help he needed as he continued falling in that bottomless pit. He thought of the longing to feel closer to his dad, and how the people he was bound to meet would make him feel just that, and how some man, some stranger, had offered to help him find that connection. It might be the thing that could cushion the fall the way his father did after his mom died. Blaine might be the cushion.

He was wary, of course. With the media focused on his family and the fact that he could scarcely figure out who he could trust at all, he was wary. He set up a line of defenses, a wall of sorts, dubious to every sort of help people extended. He'd always been reticent about his emotions, but now more then ever, he needed to keep people at arm's length. Unless he was able to put the man who killed his father behind bars, he would forever walk across life wondering if the people he met knew anything about the murder. It didn't seem fair, of course, but Kurt had been burned too many a time to throw caution to the wind. So if he was wary of Blaine, truthfully, no one could blame him.

And as he rounded the corner and followed Finn's car to the designated parking space, he wondered when he would ever be able to fill the emptiness in his heart. He was hollow now, devoid of any emotion other than pain, and he briefly wondered how desperately receptive he would be to any sort of love from there on. He was guarded, of course, and heavily so, and he would always remain cautious. But now that his father was gone, it almost felt like the floorboards beneath him had been snatched away and he had a heart craving to love and be loved in return— by family, and maybe, hopefully, eventually, by a man who he now wished could have met his father.

He shook his head, ridding himself of those thoughts. Now wasn't the time to think of romance. He wasn't ready. What he needed was to concentrate on this one task, to close that particular chapter of his life by finding who killed his father before opening another chapter.

He alighted from his vehicle, grabbed his satchel and smoothed his hair, trailing behind Finn as they headed to the building.

"Wes is bringing Blaine when he comes over for the meeting," Finn said as they walked, his steps light on the ground. "I don't think he has a car so you'll have to drive both of you around."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Did he say what time they'll be here?"

Finn shrugged, pushing the glass door open and allowing Kurt to step in ahead of him. "The meeting is in half an hour so he should be here any minute if he isn't already upstairs."

"Wes seems like a punctual man," Kurt commented, eyes absently scanning the building's lobby. This was hardly his first time at the office, but he used to pay no particular attention to the details, at least not here.

Finn nodded in agreement. "He is."

"Formal, too."

"He has his quirks," Finn answered as they stepped into the elevator. "But he's a good man and I trust him, which is the only reason I'm letting you go out with that Blaine guy." Finn had known Wes since Wes started his career. He was with the CIA, but he'd been affiliated with Burt Hummel when he interned at his office during law school. The two built a friendship, at first built solely on their loyalty to one Congressman Hummel, but extended eventually to football games and what have you.

"What?"

Finn sighed. "Look, considering how we're both pretty much hot targets now, both by the press and the crazy people of Ohio, we should be a little more vigilant about the people we hang out with. We know nothing about Blaine, but Wes trusts him and I trust Wes so..."

Kurt worried his bottom lip, adjusting his satchel on his shoulder. "You think he could be some sort of threat?"

"Kurt, at this point, everyone is a threat," he explained. "The only reason I'm not letting you walk around with a freakin' body guard all the time is because I know you'll throw a fit. So this is me imploring you to be really careful. I don't want anything to happen to you."

With a little hesitation, Kurt nodded solemnly. He appreciated that Finn knew him so well, knew that he would oppose vehemently to having a bodyguard. He didn't understand politics as much as Finn did, so maybe he hadn't fully grasped the danger that surrounded his family constantly. But he was glad for that. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him. For now, he would have to rely on Finn's warning to be extra vigilant.

Before he could say anything, the elevator doors opened and Finn stepped off. Kurt followed suit, trailing behind him through the office cubicles and curious stares of the people who used to work with his father. He smiled at them faintly, seeming meek and maybe a little uncomfortable at the blatant looks he was getting.

"Looks like Wes is here," Finn commented, his eyes set at the end of the hallway where Wes and Blaine were engaged in quiet conversation. At the sound of their feet echoing across the linoleum, the two men in question looked up and plastered easy smiles on both their faces.

"Good morning," Wes greeted, his back straight as he offered Finn his hand to shake. Finn took it and echoed the greeting to Wes and Blaine.

"It's nice to see you again," Kurt said as he shook Wes' hand.

Wes nodded, holding on a little longer than required before he let go and gestured to Blaine. "You remember Blaine, of course? He's going to take you around."

Blaine offered a self-conscious smile. "Well, more like show you around, like a tour guide. I can't really take you around because I don't have a car in Ohio," he almost rambled, taking Kurt's hand and shaking it, ignoring how soft it was against his own. He resisted the urge to explain why—that he was from California and he hadn't been back in Ohio for the longest time. But instead, he settled for, "I haven't gotten around to renting one yet."

Kurt smiled in return, looking slightly amused. "That's no problem at all. I have a car parked downstairs whenever you're ready."

Finn cleared his throat, looking at Kurt seriously. "The meeting's about to start. You and Blaine can go anytime. Just let me know where you are every—"

"I'm not thirteen Finn," Kurt replied, instantly knowing Finn's trail of thought. "I'm not texting you every hour." It was something his dad had made him do after things went down with Karofsky in high school, and he hadn't done it since.

"Kurt, don't argue with me on this. This is our compromise. No bodyguard? That's _fine_. But I need you to update me as often as you can." Finn looked earnest, so, so earnest in a way that was so Finn-like that Kurt almost felt bad.

Kurt sighed and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes in slight exasperation. "Fine," he answered in petulance.

Finn nodded, satisfied. He turned his head to Blaine and gave him a leveled gaze, one he was hoping looked intimidating enough. "You'll keep him safe?"

Blaine nodded surely, offering Finn a reassuring smile. "I will, I promise."

"Blaine will make sure Kurt is safe," Wes interjected, looking at Finn and trying to mollify him. "They'll be fine." Something in Wes' tone was odd if any of them had paused to ponder on it, like he was absolutely sure no misfortune would befall Kurt or Blaine; like Blaine would indeed keep Kurt safe.

Finn paused, frowning, before he sighed and acquiesced. "Okay. Keep me posted, Kurt," he said reluctantly before he gave Kurt a half hug and walked into the boardroom. Wes offered Kurt a smile before he followed Finn, leaving Blaine and Kurt alone in the hall.

"I'm sorry, he's a bit protective," Kurt said apologetically, smoothing his hair as a nervous gesture once they were alone.

Blaine flashed him a wide, friendly smile. "No need to apologize. I understand completely." Any other time and Kurt would have noticed how adorable Blaine looked in that moment.

"Still, though," Kurt said unsurely. "I'm a grown man."

"Your dad was a grown man too," he pointed out, instantly regretting bringing it up. "Oh god, I'm sorry, that was tactless of me and I—"

"It's fine," Kurt interrupted, holding his hand up in dismissal and keeping his emotions in check. "Point taken." He took a deep breath then flashed Blaine a smile. "Shall we go, then?" he asked, an exaggerated gallantry intoned behind his painfully joking simper.

Kurt was a master of covering it up—with flair and extravagance and an entire pomp and circumstance to distract people from the fact that he was distraught. And even though it was increasingly difficult to summon the same false bravado so soon after burying his father, he had to suck it up, swallow the lump in his throat, and carry on.

Blaine bit his lip unsurely, staring at Kurt as if he wanted to say something, but the look Kurt was giving him told him to wisely just drop the subject. "Of course. Lead the way?"

Kurt smiled at him gratefully them turned on his heel to walk back to the elevators and to his car, the entire journey wordless if not a little tensed. When they got to the car, Kurt gestured for Blaine to take the front seat as he settled himself in his own. They buckled up and were out on the highway in a matter of moments.

"So," Kurt started, breaking the silence, "Mind telling me which direction I'm supposed to be headed?"

Blaine cast him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I suppose I forgot to tell you. I meant to ask if you were okay with driving out to Westerville for this."

Kurt raised a brow in response as he veered to the ramp. "Westerville?" Westerville was two hours away, and Kurt had only been there a handful of times, most of which were during his father's campaign trail. He briefly wondered why he hadn't just relocated himself to Westerville where people were a lot more progressive than Lima.

"It's just... I went to high school there so my network is densely concentrated in the area," Blaine explained, his voice still a little apologetic. He mentally berated himself for not clearing things up with Kurt beforehand.

Kurt nodded in acknowledgment. "Of course. Westerville it is," he smiled. Well, it wasn't a big deal. Not really. There was nothing to worry about—he just wondered what Finn would think of him driving out so far from Lima.

"I'm sorry," Blaine replied sheepishly. "I know Westerville's pretty far. I would've driven us up there myself, but I'm only vacationing here so I don't have a car. I haven't gotten around to renting one," he said, not realizing he was repeating information he had already given.

"It's fine. I promise it's not a problem," Kurt answered warmly, feeling the last of the tension from that morning slip into nothingness as he drove through the traffic-free highway. Finn couldn't do anything anyway. And besides, Finn wasn't the boss of him. He was going to be royally pissed, yes, but Kurt didn't care. "I was wondering what you were doing in Ohio though. You're a far way from California," he mused curiously.

"My mom," Blaine shrugged in explanation. "She's... Kind of going through some things."

"Ah. Say no more," Kurt said amiably, understanding clicking in his head. "I don't mean to pry when it comes to family."

Blaine let go of his breath slowly, unnoticed by Kurt. Kurt was much too preoccupied with respecting Blaine's privacy because, well, he knew how it was for everybody to be prying into his business, especially now in the wake of his father's death. Everyone wanted to know how he was feeling. Everyone wanted to know what he was going to do next. Wasn't it enough that he was grieving, and that all he could see himself doing in the foreseeable future was to grieve and grieve and grieve some more? Kurt wasn't about to ask Blaine unless Blaine was willing to talk. Something about him told Kurt that Blaine had a story, one he was sure would unfold to him eventually, but one he wasn't willing to ask about lest Blaine volunteered it.

Offering Kurt a wry smile, Blaine shrugged. "It's not... I'm not..." he started, struggling a little for the right words. From where he sat, he saw Kurt turn his head a little and smile at him consolingly.

"It's okay, " Kurt comforted. "You don't owe me anything. If any, I owe you a lot considering you're taking time off from your family to do this for me. You don't have to tell me anything you aren't comfortable with."

Blaine smiled at him in gratitude, recognizing the sincerity in Kurt's voice, swirled so well with something so sad that Blaine almost felt his heart constrict in pain. He didn't know Kurt personally, not yet, but really, something about him was magnetic. "You don't owe me anything either," he whispered quietly.

Kurt cleared his throat at that, effectively clearing up the tension in the air and smiling at Blaine a little. "Anyway," Kurt said amicably, "You went to Dalton, right?"

Blaine nodded, his eyes trained on the wide expanse of road ahead of them and mentally berating himself for the comment. "Yup. Dalton all through high school."

Well, that wasn't necessarily true, Blaine thought. He transferred in the spring semester of freshman year so it wasn't exactly "all through high school", but it was close enough.

"Your mom still up in Westerville?"

"Lima, actually," Blaine answered. "I boarded all four years while my family stayed in Lima. My dad was in Columbus for business a lot so I rarely saw him, even on weekends, but yeah... Lima."

Kurt smiled at him ruefully. "Lima is pretty much one of the most depressing towns in America," he said on a laugh. "I have no question about why you chose to go to high school as far away as humanly possible from this shithole."

"I told you yesterday I came to Dalton for the no harassment policy. Lima was a bit..."

"Unbearable?" he supplied. "Tell me about it."

"More like... Bigoted." He didn't just mean the town because, well, he could have easily escaped that at home. But even his home was bigoted, really. Not his mom, never. Not even Cooper, his brother. But my god, his father. He was the biggest bigot Blaine had ever met, and he dared not be associated with him even now that he was an adult.

"Mmm," Kurt hummed thoughtfully. "True. Something my dad really fought against."

Turning his head to smile softly at Kurt, Blaine unthinkingly rested his hand on Kurt's bicep and squeezed lightly, his touch lingering just a little longer than truly necessary. "Your father was a great man, Kurt. You should be really proud."

Blinking against the sudden tears clouding his vision, Kurt sniffed and ignored the clenching in his heart. "I am," he replied hoarsely, the rest of the ride spent in silence until they reached their destination.

* * *

They arrived at an apartment about five minutes out of Westerville, in a rich part of town where the houses were huge and the land cut too magnanimously for a single person to live in. But, well, this was the small town America, and almost everything resembled a farm unless you were in the bigger cities.

"My friend Trent lives here," Blaine explained. "He went to high school with me, went to Illinois for college then came back here. He pioneered a PFLAG chapter, and he's met your dad a lot of times in the past. He used to attend the PFLAG meetings before his second term."

Kurt nodded, at once feeling the pace of his heart quicken. He didn't know why, couldn't really explain what made all of this so... Exciting. More than feeling infinitely closer to his father through the endeavor, there was something about meeting people and hearing real stories and knowing his father spoke to them and touched them that made everything so exhilarating. He supposed he didn't take into account how truly inundating this entire feat was, but here he was now, his grief over his father's demise growing and shrinking at the same time as he alighted from his car and stared at the apartment ahead of him.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked cautiously, his eyes so full of concern as he regarded the brunette. "Are you okay?"

Hastily, Kurt nodded, facing Blaine and offering what he hoped looked like a confident smile. "Perfect. Does your friend know we're coming?"

Blaine narrowed his eyes, but nodded still even as he looked suspicious. "Yeah, Trent knows we're coming." He paused, sizing Kurt up a little. "Kurt, are you sure you're—"

"Fine," Kurt said, cutting him off. "A little nervous. A little overwhelmed. But I'll be fine."

"Kurt..."

"I just... This is it, I guess," Kurt said, shrugging a little. "I'm starting this... Thing... And it makes my dad's death so much more real. Like something I couldn't deny anymore."

There was sadness written so clearly on Blaine's face, a perfect reflection of the one on Kurt's. "Kurt if you aren't ready..."

"I'm fine," Kurt repeated, taking a deep breath and smiling softly at Blaine. "So. Which of these apartments is Trent's?"

Blaine regarded Kurt for another second before he sighed and cocked his head in the direction of Trent's home. Kurt followed him wordlessly, still trying to compose himself enough to look presentable to this man.

He couldn't quite understand it. Not really. There was so much sadness eating him up from the inside, and he was torn between wallowing desperately in the sadness and picking up the pieces in the way strong, confident Kurt Hummel would have done had this been any other death. But this was his father's death, the man who was always on Kurt's side regardless of all the contention he got from the world, and that simple fact complicated everything. His father was dead, a concept he had yet to grasp and to repeat over and over again in his head, like some sort of constant reminder. His father was dead, and he was lost, and he needed to find his way out of the darkness that seemed to cease him from every direction.

And then, well. Here was one strange Blaine Anderson who Kurt found to be intriguing, who took time out of his schedule to accompany a man he barely knew on an emotional journey he probably would be better off without. And grieving though he was, Kurt couldn't deny that despite the initial suspicion, he was attracted to the man. Maybe not romantically, but he was intriguing enough for Kurt to want to get to know him. But he rid himself of those thoughts. It seemed almost disrespectful to his father's memory, to his death, for him to be entertaining such a train of thought. He couldn't let himself to be interested in anybody, no matter how drawn he was to Blaine. It was wrong, and extremely untimely, and he needed to get over his father's death before he could open his heart, allow himself to love, and at the same time be a man his partner deserved.

With a sigh, he followed Blaine through the brick apartments until they stopped in front of a forest green door. From the outside, the place looked quaint, and Blaine stopped and smiled a little unsurely at Kurt.

"Are you absolutely sure you're ready, Kurt? We can always come back, you know?"

Kurt nodded vigorously, meaning to reassure Blaine. "Yes, of course. I'm fine, Blaine."

Blaine still looked skeptical as he raised both of his brows in question, wanting Kurt to be entirely sure that this was something he could handle. He couldn't really grasp the idea, but something about imagining Kurt any sadder than he already was made him extremely uncomfortable. As it was, seeing Kurt so displaced had allowed a heavy weight to settle in his stomach. It was something incredibly absurd, considering he barely knew the man, but the nervousness now overtaking his body made him want to gather Kurt in his arms and tell him everything would be alright.

"You sure?" he pressed, knowing he was sounding so redundant. But he couldn't help it. He cared. He couldn't explain why without sounding like a creepy stalker, but he cared. If he believed in things like destiny or soul mates or love at first sight, he really wouldn't have been questioning the way he was feeling. But as it was, he was skeptical of everything, skeptical to the entire world ever since some kids beat the shit out of him at that Sadie Hawkins, and his father did nothing but shrug and say he deserved it.

Exhaling slowly, Kurt offered Blaine a dim smile and nodded. "I promise, I'll be fine."

It took another moment before Blaine nodded curtly and ascended the stoop, knocking on the green door and gesturing for Kurt to follow him up. A few seconds later, there was movement behind the door before it opened, revealing a baby faced man with brown hair, dressed in a grey V neck and a pair of jeans.

"Blaine!"

"Trent," Blaine grinned, stepping forward and allowing Trent to hug him. "You're looking good! You lost a lot of weight."

Trent pulled away and continued grinning. "Amazing what exercise and vegetables do, really. Hate the routine, but the results have been fabulous."

Blaine laughed, the sound reaching Kurt's ears as he stood awkwardly behind him. The sound of Blaine's laughter was melodious, hearty. It was, well, it was happy, and Kurt couldn't help the soft smile that graced his lips at the lightness that came with it.

"Well, keep it up. You really do look great."

Trent's grin widened before his eyes flashed to Kurt, now seeming just a little self conscious.

"This must be Kurt," Trent said as he gestured towards him.

"Oh, god, yes!" Blaine exclaimed, setting his hand on Kurt's back and ushering him forward. "Forgive my manners. Trent, this is Kurt Hummel, Congressman Hummel's son. Kurt, this is my good friend Trent. From Dalton Academy."

Kurt extended his hand and smiled at him warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Trent."

Trent took his hand and shook it firmly. "Oh, believe me, Kurt. The pleasure is all mine. Your dad spoke very often of you."

With an appreciative nod, Kurt smiled at Trent and then turned to look at Blaine, whose hand was still on Kurt's back. Blaine rubbed his back for a moment before they were ushered into the apartment and led to the living room.

"Does anyone want anything? Water? Coffee? I have freshly squeezed orange juice in the fridge" Trent offered, looking between Kurt and Blaine.

"I can use some coffee if it's no trouble," Blaine said.

Trent nodded then turned to Kurt. "Coffee?"

"Just... Some water would be nice, thank you," Kurt responded.

As Trent left to fetch the drinks, Kurt turned to Blaine, who was seated on a chair adjacent to him. "You said he runs the PFLAG chapter in Westerville?"

Blaine nodded. "He's pretty passionate about it. He's met some great people and he's seen some great changes happen in front of him. I think it's inspiring."

"Oh, I've no doubt of that," Kurt said as his eyes scanned the tastefully decorated room. "I've been to a couple of PFLAG meetings before. When you see parents really try hard to understand their kids, it kind of makes me have a little more hope in the world." He paused, turned to Blaine, then smiled warmly.

Blaine returned the smile, unable to answer because, well, he'd thought countless of times of the things he would give up to have his father at least try to understand him. He would give _anything_ for him to show the least bit of concern, to make an effort to love Blaine, to understand him, to _try_. But his father practically disowned him as soon as he came out, and that had left a gaping hole in his heart, and some sort of hatred or anger or disappointment or whatever he didn't know he could possess for the man who was supposed to love him unconditionally.

Trent came back a moment later with a tray of drinks, setting it down on the coffee and grinning at them both. "So."

"So," Blaine started, helping Trent distribute the drinks and smiling at him in thanks. "Kurt here wants to know all about PFLAG."

"PFLAG?"

Kurt shook his head. "Not about PFLAG," he said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Blaine, knowing it was his attempt to get the ball rolling. "Just... You know... Your experiences with my dad. Blaine told me you've met him a couple of times."

Trent's lip turned upward a little, wistful and slightly nostalgic. "Yeah. I have. I don't know how to tell you how sad I am over his passing. He's... He was an inspiring man."

Licking his lips, Kurt replied. "Yeah?"

He took a sip of his orange juice, set it down on the coaster and then nodded. The room grew quiet, almost solemn, and it made Kurt shiver just a little at the sadness that suddenly settled between them.

"He used to have a lot of meetings in the area, and whenever they'd end early, he'd come and sit at the PFLAG meetings. He used to come more during his first term, not so much recently because he was lobbying more, but everyone at the PFLAG chapter I work with had one opinion of him."

"And what was that?" Blaine asked.

Trent shrugged. "That he was really down to earth. Very easy to talk with. Simple, no paraphernalia, no posse, nothing. And he related to everyone so well and shared his own personal stories— talked about you a lot, actually," he said to Kurt. "He had no qualms sharing his own experience and helping the other parents having a difficult time to really just try to understand. He tried making everything personal, you know? Man to man, and not generalized."

Blaine nodded. "I think that's... His trademark?"

"He did the wide scale change thing," Trent said, "You know, with the lobbying and stuff? But he was also very personal, very intimate. And people really appreciated that." He paused. "It was clear to everyone how much he loved you. He spoke about you so adoringly that I think it inspired more of the parents to try a little harder for their kids. Like, if this guy, this mechanic who's as butch as you could possibly be in Ohio could love his son, then, well..."

Kurt's eyes watered a little at that. "I think people really underestimate how important acceptance is to people like us."

"Your dad really helped these people," Trent said firmly. "I know there are so many families out there, so many gay kids who are in better environments because your dad led by example."

"But how did he help _you_?" Kurt asked as he reached for his glass of water sitting on the coffee table. "I want to know how he helped _you_."

Trent paused and pondered the question, thinking of the times Burt Hummel had approached him at the end of each meeting and congratulated him, told him he was doing something noble, asked about his own experiences and listened attentively. He thought of how sincere Burt always was, compassionate as he empathized with the people around him and wasn't afraid to reach out and share a part of himself with others. It was awe-inspiring, helped him be a little more dedicated to his job and appreciate every moment as they came.

"You know those little breakthroughs people sometimes have in the middle of a PFLAG encounter? Your dad helped me appreciate those more. Find beauty in them. Made me believe I was doing something worthwhile. I mean, I'm practically a nobody in the grand scheme of things, but he always reminded me that I was doing something important, something extremely poignant for people. Like, change happens a step at a time, and it doesn't have to be big. Start small, and it pretty much grows from there."

Kurt chuckled a little, ignoring how tearful he was starting to feel, ignoring the ache in his chest at the desperate need to embrace his father fiercely. "He used to always tell me I was high strung, that I had big dreams and I never made a series of small ones so I could feel like I achieved something. And he was extremely adamant about my self-worth. He's like that."

Trent smiled at him. "He told us about that time he had to give you the sex talk."

Kurt blushed profusely, the memory still mortifying but now just a little bashful as he recalled how his father had looked out for him. "Oh god, he didn't."

Blaine glanced at Kurt and bit his lip to prevent from laughing out loud. Kurt was adorable when he blushed.

"He did," Trent said, grinning. "The topic was something like the physical side of being gay. High schools barely have acceptable sex ed for straight couples, let alone for gay ones, so this was sort of like some gay substitute."

"Oh god, that must have been awkward."

"Surprisingly, not at all," Trent said. "It was actually 90% laughing, but we got some pretty good lessons out of it."

"Hm?"

"He told us that he told you to never—"

"forget that I mattered," Kurt finished, feeling the ache in his chest tighten a little more. He closed his eyes, wishing for the tears to retreat at the sudden agony threatening to overtake him. "He told me not to throw myself around like I didn't matter... Because I matter."

"You do matter," Blaine whispered, reaching across the table to squeeze Kurt's hand lightly before sitting back up.

Trent smiled softly. "He told everyone in the room that they mattered. It was... It was a beautiful moment."

A pause, and then Kurt cleared his throat to rid himself of the lump that formed in it. "I'm glad he shared that with you. I think that's something we all need to hear, gay or straight."

Trent nodded in agreement. "He also told us how you stuck your fingers in your ears when he tried to talk to you about it," he laughed, grinning at Kurt's sudden woeful expression. "It was really amusing."

"Oh god," Kurt said as he resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. "He gave me freakin' _pamphlets_!" he protested. "It was mortifying!"

Blaine and Trent burst out laughing, imagining big, burly Burt Hummel handing his gay son instructional pamphlets on how to have sex.

"Oh my god, stop laughing," Kurt cried. "It was the most mortifying experience of my life!"

"Sure it was," Blaine laughed, shaking his head at Kurt's expression.

"The pamphlets were extremely thorough," Kurt said petulantly.

Trent chuckled. "We have improved pamphlets, don't worry. No child is ever going to have an experience as mortifying as that."

"Thank god," Kurt exhaled, grinning at the memory. "God, my dad was awesome."

"He was," Trent agreed, nodding. "You were extremely lucky to have him."

* * *

"Thank you for taking me to meet Trent, Blaine," Kurt said as they cruised the highway back to Lima. "It was... _Enlightening_."

Blaine grinned at Kurt from the passenger seat. "It's no problem at all. I'm glad you found the experience okay."

Kurt nodded a little. "More than okay."

"Did you... Did it make you feel closer? To your dad?" he asked cautiously, his voice bordering on timid. That was Kurt's goal after all, right? To feel closer to his father? The entire point of meeting people was to feel closer to him, and Blaine had to know if he was helping any.

Kurt pondered the question for a moment before he nodded again, slowly. "Yeah. I mean, it's always a different experience seeing my dad through another person's eyes, like, how they think of him and stuff. It's like seeing a whole new side of him, getting to know him more. And I love that."

"That's great," Blaine answered softly, a small, relieved smile on his lips.

"It is," Kurt agreed. Another pause, and then, "Thank you, Blaine, really. I don't think I can say that enough. We barely know each other, but I'm sharing this... This really intimate thing with you and I surprisingly feel really comfortable about that. So just... Thank you."

Well, Kurt was right about one thing. They barely knew each other. And so far, Blaine knew Kurt more than Kurt knew Blaine. If Kurt was bothered by it, he didn't say. He knew he would get to know Blaine over the course of their journey together, and that things and stories would come on their own, organic, like friendship or something more than that blossoming naturally between the two of them.

"You're welcome," Blaine smiled, trying desperately to stay in that moment.

* * *

Okay. Thanks for reading through the entire thing. :)) What I'm trying to highlight here is how quickly a person may fall in love. I mean, it's not completely unrealistic for a person to fall in love in a day. I'm not saying that's what's gonna happen here- K & B will go through some stuff before they get together. But I think that in real life, love at first sight is possible. In my opinion, at least. :)) Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4, Part I

AN: Thanks for reading the last chap, guys. :) Here's a relatively short one since it's just the first part of chapter 4. I thought about making just one long chapter but decided against it. :) Hope you guys like it.

-I still own nothing. :)

* * *

Kurt went to bed that night feeling a lot lighter than when he got out of it. He didn't think it was possible, but knowing that his father loved him through the eyes of a complete stranger made Burt's death just a little more bearable. Oh, it still ached, painfully at that, but he couldn't help but notice that he was breathing a little easier now.

Two days later, he found himself in the car Blaine had borrowed from his mother and driving with the man to Columbus to meet yet another person Blaine knew from someone who knew someone who knew someone. They had exchanged numbers, spoke fleetingly through a phone call, but even through the limited contact, there was a certain ease between them.

"What did you do over the weekend?" Blaine asked, sparing Kurt a quick glance before returning his gaze on the highway. It amazed him how easy it was to be in Kurt's company, even if it was blatantly obvious that Kurt still had his guard up. He was wary, but he was also showing some signs of trust, ones Blaine was entirely grateful and relieved to see.

Kurt shrugged. "Visited my dad. Moped," he said, a small, sad smile on his lips. He didn't find the need to sugarcoat anything in front of Blaine, or to put up any sort of pretense. It was refreshing, if not a little terrifying how he found himself being more honest with Blaine than any of the friends he had in New York.

He didn't bother trying to understand why. Although he had only known Blaine a couple of days, he quickly learned how easy it was to be in his company, how Blaine's lighthearted demeanor rubbed off on him and made him feel less likely to want to die in the wake of his father's death. It was strange, and it made Kurt feel guilty, but Blaine, and the things they were doing together, made Burt's death tolerable.

He knew very little about Blaine, that much was certain. Blaine was reticent, as if sharing much about himself was baleful. But there were windows of light that he allowed Kurt to see, his defenses lowered just a little for Kurt to take a peek into who he really was without betraying some of the things he kept in a closed, tight box at the back of his head. It was sort of like looking in a mirror, actually. Because both of them were tentative, both of them a little wary about trusting, but both of them open to the idea of allowing someone else in. If only a little. It didn't necessarily strike Kurt as odd that Blaine was far more secretive than him. Normally, of all the people he knew, he was the most protective of his emotions, of his past. But here and now, Blaine, even if he was outwardly very amiable, kept a certain row of guard up, rivaling those of Kurt's.

Blaine cast him a half smile in response. "You know, if you need anyone to talk to..."

"Thank you," Kurt said quietly. He wasn't really in the mood to talk about it, not to anyone. He could talk of neutral topics, but he couldn't speak of his grief so openly just yet. "What about you? How was your weekend?"

Blaine shrugged slightly. "Uneventful, I guess. I replaced some of the light bulbs at my mom's house, did the laundry... And helped my mom with the groceries."

"How domestic," Kurt chuckled. "You're such a handyman."

"I try," he answered, chuckling easily along with Kurt. "My mom lives alone now so she doesn't have anyone else to do this stuff for her."

"Oh," Kurt said. "Did... What happened to your dad, if you don't mind my asking?" He remembered Blaine mentioning that his father always worked, and that he was barely home. But he didn't believe Blaine mentioned anything happening to his father for his mother to start living alone. He honestly wasn't one to pry, but sometimes his curiosity got the better of him, even if it made him stick his foot in his mouth sometimes.

Blaine's grip on the steering wheel tightened just a little, a gesture Kurt noticed but didn't comment on. He knew he had hit a sensitive chord, and he was about to apologize profusely before Blaine answered, his tone just short of stiff.

"He left when I was 14," he answered curtly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kurt replied sheepishly, looking appropriately embarrassed for asking something so personal. Of all people, he could understand the burning need to speak only of things he was willing to, to not be asked to share anything unless it was of his own accord.

Blaine shrugged a little, dismissing Kurt's apology. If it were any other person, it would be a big deal and he would make a fuss about sharing that part of himself. But this was Kurt, someone who was sharing a part of himself with a total stranger, trusting him so completely that Blaine felt like he owed it to him.

"It was the year I came out," he said. "He wasn't exactly a fan." His voice was wry, maybe a little bitter despite the years he'd had to dull the ache.

Kurt nodded slowly. "I'm still sorry to hear that."

Blaine shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"Still though," Kurt insisted lightly. "That's not the kind of thing that leaves you."

"No, it isn't," Blaine agreed.

A moment, and then Kurt decided the topic was far too personal to push. He truly didn't mean to ask something so moving, and he mentally scolded himself for almost crossing the man who was taking generous portions of his time and giving them to Kurt free of obligation.

He cleared his throat and sank deeper in his seat, switching topics abruptly. "So who are we visiting in Columbus?"

Blaine smiled briefly at Kurt's sensitivity and considertion before he answered. "I asked around your dad's office, and his secretary gave me the name of this guy who was really adamant about setting an appointment with your dad a couple of years back."

Kurt raised a brow in question. "Oh?"

"Yeah. He met with your dad and they talked for hours apparently, and it just looked like they talked about something really significant. They both came out looking a little relieved."

"And you know this how?"

"The secretary said that particular meeting just really struck her. It stood out."

Kurt hummed thoughtfully. "Did you call this guy?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, I did. He was a little surprised but he agreed. You might know him actually, come to think of it."

"So you don't know this guy personally?" he asked, eyes narrowed a bit. Finn's concerned face flashed in his mind briefly.

He shook his head as he changed lanes, unaware of Kurt's slight concern. "No, but you know him."

Kurt raised a brow, slightly impatient. "Well, what's his name?"

Blaine checked his side mirror for a second before he answered swiftly. "David Karofsky."

And then there was stunned silence. That was the only word to describe Kurt's reaction. He was stunned. His jaw slackened and his eyes widened and he needed to shake himself out of the stupor in order to process exactly what he had heard. He would have sputtered, but really he was far too surprised to decide whether he was at a loss for words, or at an influx of them.

"David Karofsky?" he asked, not bothering to keep the incredulity out of his voice. "David fucking Karofsky set an appointment with my dad?" he repeated, eyebrows shooting to the sky with each passing word.

Blaine glanced at him, a little shocked at Kurt's tone and also a little wary. Also maybe a little nervous. "Was that a bad idea?" he asked.

"I—" Kurt stopped, shaking his head and trying to wrap his mind around the idea. "I don't know yet."

Blaine frowned at this. "I'm sorry, maybe I should have asked you first. I just assumed—"

"It's just... A lot to take in," he said, swallowing a little. What a small world. What a small, fucking confusing world. It just didn't make sense, not right now. He hadn't seen Karofsky since the day he attempted suicide and wound up in the hospital. They didn't exactly stay in contact, and Kurt wasn't exactly afraid of him or whatever, but some part of him was still terrified.

"I... Help me understand?" Blaine asked in a timid voice, sensing Kurt's distress but not wanting to push. He felt the guilt settling in his gut at not consulting Kurt about it first.

Kurt sighed, rubbing his chin a little before he shifted in his seat and stared at the open road ahead. "He bullied me in high school," he said simply.

Blaine frowned at that. That sounded foreboding, but he said nothing in response. He almost felt the fear settle into his bones, like Kurt's story ended like his.

"He... One day I got so tired of it and followed him in the locker room and yelled at him. He'd been giving me so much shit about being gay and stuff and, I guess he terrified the crap out of me. But I yelled at him at the locker room and then I said some things and he said some things... Then he kissed me."

"What?" Blaine exclaimed harshly, almost stepping on the breaks right in the middle of the highway. What the actual _fuck_? "He what?"

"He kissed me," Kurt repeated, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "It was my first kiss that mattered. Who knew he was a closeted son of a bitch?"

"Kurt, I'm sorry. If I'd known I'd have—"

"I mean, we've patched things up since then, you know, after he threatened to kill me and stuff," he said a little sarcastically, ignoring the disbelieving, almost enraged look on Blaine's face. "But we've come to some sort of... Equilibrium or whatever so we're not exactly on bad terms. I just haven't, you know... Been keeping in touch with him."

Blaine sighed, looking appropriately apologetic as he reached out and squeezed Kurt's arm a little. "I'm really sorry, Kurt. We don't have to meet him."

Kurt shrugged and smiled at Blaine reassuringly. They were on their way anyway What's the point of backing out now? "It's fine. It's just... _Wow_... David Karofsky."

"Yeah," Blaine said, not knowing what else to say as he glanced nervously at Kurt.

Licking his lips, he took in a deep breath and smiled a little hesitantly at Blaine. "Well. Drive faster. I haven't seen the Neanderthal in forever."

* * *

"Kurt, are you sure you're—"

"You asked the same thing when we went to meet Trent," he said, rolling his eyes fondly. "I'm fine, Blaine."

Blaine looked at Kurt worriedly as they walked towards the coffee shop. "You sure?"

"I'm fine," Kurt repeated, smiling at Blaine reassuringly and appreciating Blaine's concern even if it was maybe a little unwarranted or over the top. "I'm not... He's not..." Kurt sighed a little. "It was a long time ago, and if you say he made some sort of... Reparation with my dad, then that's good enough for me." He paused. "If any, I'm a little curious about what he had to say to him," he said as an afterthought.

Blaine looked at him, really looked at him and smiled a little. "You're very brave."

Kurt blushed a little at the sincerity in Blaine's tone. It was a random comment, one that flew out of nowhere, but one Kurt appreciated nevertheless. "Not brave so much as having a really good support system," he said. "I don't mean to sound really insensitive but... I'm lucky to have had my dad, Blaine. It made all the difference."

"Yeah."

Kurt paused and tilted his head as he studied Blaine. "And you're really lucky to have your mom. I don't know your story, but I think you're pretty brave too."

Not as brave as you, Blaine thought, opting instead to smile in appreciation. There were so many things he couldn't come into terms with, and so many things he was cowardly of. But now wasn't really the time to talk about it. Instead, they arrived at the coffee shop and Blaine swung the door open for Kurt. He gestured for Kurt to go ahead, and the man smiled gratefully in return.

Blaine surveyed the crowd, not really knowing what the David Karofsky guy looked like, and starting to feel a little sheepish at agreeing to meeting at a coffee shop without knowing how he looked. But before he could apologize, Kurt was weaving through the tables and leaving Blaine to follow, face just bordering on tight as he stopped at a booth where a burly looking man was seated.

"David," Kurt greeted, putting on a congenial if not slightly hesitant smile. Blaine couldn't read Kurt's demeanor entirely, just that the guard were a little higher up.

David Karofsky, now older and looking so much more mature than they did in high school, looked up from his coffee and smiled up at Kurt timidly. He looked so much meeker than Kurt remembered, and maybe a little worn for wear.

"Hey Kurt," he said as he stood up and awkwardly debated between a hug and a handshake.

Kurt watched him debate for a while before he stepped forward and hugged Karofsky, patting his back a little awkwardly before he let go. Never in a million years did he imagine doing exactly that, but he felt no remorse over the action. He had grown, and so had David, and he could prove to himself he'd moved on from all that heartache.

"How've you been?" Kurt asked, trying hard to keep his tone friendly.

David shrugged, "Good, good." He paused, looked between and Kurt and Blaine and then gestured to the counter. "Do you guys want anything?"

Kurt looked at Blaine who shrugged. "Maybe later," Kurt smiled before he introduced Blaine to the man who made high school a living hell for him. It wasn't as climactic as he thought it would be, the meeting. But the worst was over, he supposed. They settled into the booth, the air just a little stilted.

"So..." David started, terribly unsure about how to continue. It was blatantly obvious that all three of them were feeling awkward. Kurt and David had history, and Blaine was trying to decide whether he was angry at David for bullying Kurt, or angry at himself for not considering the possibility of the circumstance beforehand.

"Blaine tells me you came to see my father," Kurt began, looking directly into Karofsky's eyes and investing in all the confidence he could muster. He knew to take charge of the situation since both men he was currently with were on tenterhooks around him.

"Once," David answered with a short nod, suddenly feeling shy. He didn't know what Kurt thought about the entire thing, or how weird it was that a) he went to see Burt Hummel, and b) Burt Hummel's son came to ask him about it. Granted he had time to think the meeting over, and that he had agreed to the meeting in the first place, he didn't expect how tensed the air was going to be between them. "I came to see him about eight months into his first term. Set an appointment with his secretary."

"What'd you talked about?"

David avoided Kurt's eyes, choosing instead to stare at the dark wood of the table as he answered. It almost felt like Kurt was interrogating him, like the Spanish Inquisition had dawned upon Columbus, Ohio, on one David Karofsky. "Well, you, mostly. We talked about you, and what happened in high school."

Kurt narrowed his eyes and sat up a little straighter. "David, did you—"

"I came out to your father," he declared, finally looking up to meet Kurt's intense gaze. "He won the election under the equality flag and I thought about how crappy my own family was about me coming out. You remember I—"

"Yes, I remember perfectly," Kurt cut indignantly, not needing Karofsky to revisit the memory of lying in a hospital bed. He didn't care for Karofsky, but the idea of any gay teen trying to take his life was a defeat in itself. It sent shivers down his spine.

Dave sighed, bowing his head slightly as he rested his clasped hands on the table. "My parents weren't very accepting," he said quietly. "After I came out, the house was just... Cold. And quiet—it was unbearable. As soon as I could get the hell out of Lima, I did. And I came here. Then your dad won the election and he wouldn't stop talking about you, about how amazing you are. He didn't realize he was being amazing, too, when he supported you so openly."

"Dave..."

What Kurt didn't understand was that David Karofsky saw Kurt through the eyes of someone who was happy and proud of him for being out, for being so open. He saw him through the eyes of someone who spoke so freely about how fabulous he was, and how unapologetic he was about being himself—something that David always hated Kurt Hummel for. He had bullied Kurt in high school, shoved him against lockers and told him to keep his sexuality to himself, to hide and cower in fear and not be himself. It never occurred to him that maybe someone was happy Kurt was being himself, that Kurt made someone indubitably proud for being unashamed of his sexuality. It was the kind of acceptance he never knew existed, and it ate him from the core.

He shook his head a little. "I'm out now, and I'm proud. But back then, I was so angry, even angrier that my parents couldn't support me, never tried to understand. I mean, how could your dad be so supportive while my mom thought I had a disease? Why my dad thought I was a fag and—"

"Don't call yourself that," Kurt interjected sharply. "Ever."

"It's true though, isn't it?" he laughed humorlessly. "I'm a fairy. And extraordinarily ordinary, remember?"

Kurt shook his head in disbelief, leaning back on the seat to stare at Karofsky. He was so absorbed in the conversation that he almost forgot entirely that Blaine was right beside him, and that he had squeezed his knee under the table as some tangible comfort or calm.

"You were right about that," Dave continued sadly. "That I was a scared little boy? I was," he said, his voice growing quiet. "I was ordinary, but you weren't. You were amazing, and your dad recognized that. Mine never did."

Kurt sighed, resisting the urge to rub his eyes. "David, why did you talk to my father?" he asked tiredly, needing to understand, to make sense of how bizarre this entire encounter was.

David was quiet for a long time before he looked up and met Kurt's questioning gaze. He had mulled over speaking to Burt Hummel, agonized over it for days. It wasn't something he simply decided, it was something he realized he needed.

"I needed to understand how it was to be in the presence of someone who could accept me." He shrugged, wanting to shrink just a little under Kurt's scrutiny. "I needed to know it was possible." He felt small in that moment, almost ashamed of needing that kind of assurance. He had always felt pathetic for needing someone else to reaffirm him, and even more pathetic receiving that affirmation from the father of the kid he used to shove around in school.

"It _is _possible," Kurt said, voice soft and insistent as he leaned forward and looked just short of pleading. "It gets better."

"Yeah, well— when you came to visit me at the hospital and told me it was possible, I didn't really believe you. Not entirely, at least." He admitted, feeling his heart grow heavy. He paused and looked up, studying Kurt's sharp features. "I told your dad everything."

"Everything?" Kurt questioned dumbly, brow raised and sounding slightly incredulous if not entirely shocked.

David shrugged. "The bullying, the locker room... Coming out and trying to, you know. I told him everything."

"And what did he say?" Kurt asked softly, eyes wide with concern.

He bit his lip. "He said he appreciated that I was man enough to come up to him and, you know, be totally honest. He wasn't thrilled about knowing I kissed you and then threatened to kill you," he said, looking sheepishly at Kurt, "but he figured if you could forgive me for it, so could he."

Kurt smiled at him and reached across the table to squeeze Dave's hand briefly. "I do forgive you."

David nodded in appreciation. "Thank you. God only knows why— you could have easily been the one I was visiting in the hospital and not the other way around. But you're so much stronger than people give you credit for. Your dad was right when he told everyone you were amazing."

Ignoring how his eyes burned with pressure, Kurt smiled and looked away. "Yeah, I think I got that from him."

* * *

Yesss I know. Kurt is still emotional. I've been re-reading the chapters and I know Kurt has been OOC. But I feel like under the circumstances, Kurt's allowed to be extremely sentimental. And to anchor himself on to the first person who shows him affection. Anyway. Thanks for reading. Part 2 should come soon! :)


	5. Chapter 4, Part II

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapter, guys! Here's part two of chapter 4. We got some Blaine history, which is extremely vital to this story so. Yeah. Hope you guys like it.

Glee isn't mine. Also, English isn't my first language.

* * *

Blaine was a giant swarm of secrecy, of reticence he sometimes thought wasn't intentional but was really some sort of defense mechanism he had developed through years of bullying, of having to hide who he was for fear of not being accepted. He had tried to shake off the habit, tried convincing himself that not everyone in the world was out to get him, but it was difficult. He had spent so many years being overly cautious, of being vague about his family because even after all this time, the very thought of his father made his heart clench. It wasn't worth it, he knew. His father wasn't worth the time or the effort it took to be hated, but his father had hurt him so immensely, had disappointed him far for more than he had disappointed him, and shunned him for something he couldn't control no matter how much he wished he could. Yes, Blaine was a colossal dark hole of things hidden, of hurts so deep and pain settled well in his bones that it was hard to imagine opening himself up.

But he tried. Good god, he tried. Because for all of his father's faults, his mother had greatly compensated, did all she could to grant him a life where he could never question that he was loved. It didn't always work, of course, but he loved her so completely for dedicating her life to ensuring that Blaine and Cooper could want for nothing, not even their father. He tried to be open, to undo all the fear and self-loathing his father had instilled and allow his mother's care to overtake him and his ideologies. But there were things that were sometimes too great for Blaine to overcome, so he chose to ignore them as best he could.

And then he met Kurt. He wasn't sure what it was about the man that made him feel light, but he found himself willing and ready to share a fraction of his life with him. Not everything, definitely not. Not yet. But he had never experienced a want to speak so freely about himself before. Kurt was brave and strong-willed, his determination emanating from him despite the excruciating pain he was probably going through in the wake of his father's death. Blaine couldn't help but admire his courage, his character, the way he faced the world with confidence despite all the hate. He was true to himself, and was so unapologetic about it that it made Blaine question the way he had lived his own life.

He barely knew the man, yes. And for Christ's sake, Kurt had only lost his father and was definitely not ready for anything more than to grieve his father's death. Kurt was in no state to be emotionally willing to share any part of himself, at least not without stringing along a long line of hurts that needed to be resolved before he could ever do justice to loving somebody else. But Blaine couldn't deny that the initial pull, and the initial interest in Kurt was mounting slowly, growing into something he probably couldn't ignore if he kept seeing him.

With a sigh, Blaine shook his head and alighted from the car he borrowed from his mother, and walked into Wes' home in Lima. His friends from Dalton, now all grown men and working prestigious positions, were gathered in the living room and drinking expensive beer and eating pizza. He wasn't about to pretend they weren't going to talk about him— he had moved to California straight out of high school and barely kept much contact with any of them. They would ask. He knew they would ask. He wasn't looking forward to it, the whole idea making his stomach feel heavy with lead, but he also knew it helped to talk about it. These men were his friends, despite the little contact he'd had with them over the years. It was an unspoken agreement, some sort of once-a-warbler-always-a-warbler corollary that had him believing he could run away all he want, but he would always have a home to come back to in them.

Inside, he settled himself between Wes and Thad, clutching a bottle of beer in one hand and looking between Jeff and Nick, who were seated across the coffee table. He didn't know why he felt so nervous. It was probably a combination of speaking to them face to face instead of through a string of decorous emails, and the idea that maybe his friends would judge him.

"So, you took Kurt Hummel out?" Nick asked almost cautiously, treading the topic with precision because they all knew they were going to wind up in one direction. But the way he spoke almost felt like he was pointedly ignoring the big, pink elephant in the room. It was unnerving.

Blaine nodded, setting his eyes on the dark wood of the coffee table and trying to ignore the mounting tension he was feeling. "Yup."

There was a pause, one that filled every crack in the room with a little anxiety until Wes spoke. "Where'd you take him?"

"To meet Trent," Blaine said simply, curtly.

Wes nodded, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a swig. "How'd it go?"

Blaine shrugged, picking at the label on the bottle. "Good, actually. We talked about his dad and PFLAG."

"How'd he find it?"

"He almost cried," Blaine admitted, knowing he himself almost cried too, seeing Kurt so moved. "I'm beginning to think it was a good idea, as in him going around and stuff."

Jeff narrowed his eyes a little. "Is it a good idea that you're the one taking him around?"

"I don't see why not," Blaine said dismissively, feeling his defenses slowly rising. He tried to trample on them, knowing he had nothing to hide from the men in the room. He had been completely honest with them, and they knew his story and respected him entirely for the way he chose to pick up the pieces of his life. But he felt tiny now, like he was being examined under a microscope, under the scrutiny of people who probably knew better than he did.

"I think," Wes said, "what Jeff is trying to say is that—"

"No, Wes," Blaine cut, immediately defensive and not allowing anyone to speak against what he had been doing. He was aware that being defensive made it seem like he was guilty of something, but in truth, he just didn't want them picking at pieces of his life in that way. He knew they were all coming from a place of genuine concern, but he needed to know he could make his own decisions, wise decisions at that, without being told what to do. He had lived so much of his life under his father's shadow, being told to do this and be that, and he was tired of it. He wasn't taking it from his father, and he definitely wasn't taking it from his friends. "No, okay? You were there when I suggested I could accompany him on this thing. If you had a problem with that, you could have told me sooner. So, no. You don't get to say anything against this."

Wes sighed, worrying his bottom lip as he tried to figure out a way to phrase the group's concerns without offending Blaine. "What we're trying to say is that we're worried."

"This couldn't end very well," Thad said matter-of-factly, less concerned about softening the blow and more concerned about being brutally frank. "Knowing... You know... The things we know," he finished lamely, his bravado fading as Blaine raised a brow at him. He cast a pleading look at Blaine, one Blaine pointedly ignored.

Another pause, and then Nick, with an uncharacteristic timid voice asked, "Does he know?"

"Does he know _what_?" Blaine asked, the irritation seeping just a little into his tone. He knew he was being stubborn, but he couldn't help it. No matter how much he told himself these men were only looking out for him, and saw right through him and his excuses, he felt a desperate need to defend and protect his fragile acquaintance with Kurt.

"Does he know that you're—"

"That I'm John Hamilton's son? Of course not," Blaine said harshly, tired of beating around the bush. That was exactly the point they were getting at, and he'd be damned if they kept on mousing around the issue until they delved into that one single point. "No, he doesn't know, and I intend to keep it that way. I do not associate with that man, and I do not consider him my father. For all intents and purposes, I don't have a father."

"Blaine..." David tried cautiously, wishing to pacify him a little.

"Just because you're using your mom's last name doesn't mean you aren't Blaine Hamilton," Jeff said, unwilling to back out or to be less harsh with Blaine. Blaine was playing fire with fire, treading a very dangerous circumstance, not just for himself, but for Kurt most especially.

Wes raised a hand before Jeff could continue, willing them all to stay calm. "What Jeff is trying to say, Blaine," he said a little pointedly, punctuating Blaine's name in a tone that said he needed to listen, "is that your father is under heavy surveillance, and we're investigating him. He's our prime suspect for the murder of Kurt's father and you... _Fraternizing_ with Kurt could be dangerous."

"I don't see how it could be dangerous," Blaine said petulantly, unwilling to look at any of them in the eye. "I haven't spoken to my father since I was sixteen and I certainly won't start now. I am Blaine Anderson. Blaine Hamilton is long gone."

"Blaine."

"You're putting his life in danger, and yours as well," David said calmly, brows furrowed in concern in spite of his tone. "Kurt is a hot target for all we know. You associating with him can be a threat to your life."

"Not to mention," Nick paused, "that he trusts you. He wouldn't be allowing you to lead him through this... _Thing_... If he didn't. If you don't come clean, and he finds out the truth, well, that doesn't bode so well."

"He's not going to find out," Blaine insisted stubbornly. "There is nothing to find out. Besides, you aren't even sure if John did have Burt killed. You haven't found any compelling evidence, and to my understanding, he's innocent until proven guilty."

There was insurmountable tension now filling the room as they all stared at Blaine, his jaw set hard and his eyes slightly defiant. It was confusing. They had never heard Blaine defend his father, not really, but him implying that his father was possibly innocent had taken them aback a little. But then again, Blaine was also struggling. He was trying to justify how it was okay for him to continue helping Kurt out without having to disclose who he really was.

And yes, they understood that Blaine wanted nothing to do with his father, but it was too big a secret to keep, especially from Kurt. Kurt Hummel. Kurt fucking Hummel who was the grieving son of the congressman who was just killed. Kurt Hummel who was looking for the man who killed his father, and feeling his heart shred painfully at how difficult it was to prove that anybody had reason enough to kill his dad.

But still, they didn't understand how he couldn't just come clean about it. He could be honest, and ensure Kurt where his loyalties were, but Blaine was refusing to even acknowledge the fact that he was a key player in the grand scheme of things. He even so much as implied he'd never have to come clean about it, as if something so big could be kept hidden for so long. At the end of the day, it was big information, and it was something Kurt would care about knowing.

"We just don't want this to backfire," Wes said quietly, so much earnest desire to help laced in his words. True, he had approved and even vouched for Blaine when he suggested gallivanting across Ohio with Kurt on this _journey _he didn't quite understand. But he supposed he didn't calculate the risk enough to realize how terribly dangerous this whole thing was. It wasn't even the kind of danger he could overlook, it was real and clear and very possibly life-threatening.

Blaine sighed, rubbing his face tiredly before meeting his friends' eyes. "I appreciate your concern," he said. He understood exactly where Wes and his friends were coming from. But as far as he was concerned, he was dead to his father and vice versa, and would remain that way forever. "And I will come clean about this to him—but not now. In time, I will. Just— not now."

And that was that. There was nothing left to do but respect Blaine's decision about it. He knew it was something he would eventually have to admit, but they couldn't help but think that the longer he let the fact simmer, the harder it was for Kurt or Finn or anyone else to accept it openly. Neither Finn nor Kurt could find this acceptable, and the whole thing could backfire grandly in their faces.

Thad thankfully changed the topic, effectively dissipating the tension in the room even if the situation still sat at the back of their minds.

At the end of the night, Wes walked Blaine to his car, his back stiff but his face concerned. He knew something was changing, that Blaine wasn't the same person as he was before he met Kurt. It wasn't a surprise, not really. He knew Blaine well enough to know how fast and hard his feelings could change. But whatever it was he had with Kurt was different, and it made the situation all the more perilous.

"You like him," he stated matter-of-factly.

Blaine shrugged. "Not... In a way I can explain to make sense to you or to me."

Wes considered this for a moment as he dug his hands into his pocket. "Be careful, Blaine," he warned.

Blaine nodded once, fishing his car keys out and turning to Wes. "Thank you."

And as he drove home that night, he repressed the thought of ever having been Blaine Hamilton, the son of some homophobic congressman who possibly (but not surely) paid some other homophobic man to pull a trigger and kill a man he respected more than his father. He wasn't John Hamilton's son. He was Blaine Anderson, and he would assert that fact no matter the cost.

* * *

Okay. So that's kind of the important part here. This chapter is short because that's all I wanted you guys to dwell on- that Blaine is John Hamilton's son. How that's going to play out eventually, you'll have to stick around and wait. But I promise Blaine has his heart in the right place.

Thanks for reading, guys! Stay awesome!


	6. Chapter 5

AN: Hi! Sorry it took a while to post this new chapter. I've been trying to make a dent on the later chapters and I didn't want to post this without having written another one. So yeah. Sorry!

Anyway. This is a little long, but it has some nice Klaine development. I hope this isn't moving too fast. I'm trying to pace it. But yeah. :)

Thanks for reading! I still own nothing.

* * *

"You're always out of the house," Maria Anderson said as she beat two eggs in a bowl, eyeing her son carefully. "You hanging out with Wes a lot?"

Blaine looked up from his bowl of cereal, shrugging at his mother. "Yeah, been catching up with him and the other Warblers."

"I see," she nodded, pulling out a pan from the cupboard above her. "Where have you been hanging out? I checked the mileage on the car the other day," she said, keeping her voice measured and careful. She wasn't about to start accusing Blaine of anything; he was a grown man and could hang out wherever and whenever he so chose. But with the recent developments concerning her ex-husband, she needed to be extra vigilant when it came to Blaine. Not that he was in any direct danger, of course, but it was best to be cautious. "You've been taking quite a road trip."

"Is there a problem with that?" Blaine asked carefully, meeting his mother's gaze with a steadfast one of his own.

"No problem," she reassured, smiling at her son even if it was a little forced. "I just worry."

"Mom," Blaine said, repressing the urge to sigh tiredly.

"Blaine, I have no business finding out what you do when you're away from home. You're an adult and you can take care of yourself. But your dad—"

"He isn't my father," he interrupted indignantly, the hatred seeping in his voice enough to make his poor mother shiver visibly.

Maria sighed, abandoning the scrambled eggs and pulling a stool to sit in front of her son. "Blaine, I just want to know you're being safe. You could be hanging out with just Wes, yes, but you aren't in high school anymore. Wes isn't just the kid who lives three blocks down. He's very politically affiliated and I don't want you meddling with that."

Blaine bit his lip, knowing his mother was echoing the sentiment behind Wes' own words a couple of nights back. It was a little unnerving to be thrown with the same kind of hostility from every direction, but he knew they only cared.

"Blaine," his mother warned, her voice questioning when he didn't answer. She knew there was something Blaine wasn't telling her, and she'd rather know now than know from somewhere less desirable. She had divorced Blaine's father over ten years ago, but that didn't mean they were light years away from any danger John Hamilton's post implied. And she feared for her safety, and the safety of her children, more so now after the recent turn of events. "What have you been up to?"

Blaine sighed, shaking his head and taking his worried mother's hands into his own as a gesture meant to reassure her. If he believed his affairs with Kurt were harmless and inconsequential, then there wasn't anything wrong with telling his mother, right? But he was slowly starting to accept how risky everything was, just that he wasn't willing to give it up. He liked Kurt, that much was sure, he just didn't know up to what extent and if there was a concrete possibility of it ever growing into something more. He didn't want his mother to worry, he was being careful. And truthfully, he wasn't concerned about his own safety. He was more concerned about Kurt, and him finding out the piece of information he had conveniently left hidden for the time being.

"Blaine," she intoned again, repressing the urge to shift uncomfortably in her seat at her son's silence.

"I've been helping Wes out," he said slowly.

"Oh god, you've been—no," she said, shaking her head as the realization dawned on her after a beat. "Blaine, we said no politics! That was our agreement, and has been for a long time. Why would you—"

"Mom, it isn't like that," he rushed to defend.

"Then pray, tell, how have you been helping Wesley Montgomery out?" she challenged, sitting up straight and letting go of Blaine's hands. "What could you possibly be helping Wes out with? Don't tell me it's for a set list or song selections for regionals because you and I both know it's more than that."

"Mom—"

"Wes has been affiliated with Burt Hummel's office since he graduated. The only way you could be helping him out is you've been involving yourself in politics, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine tapped his finger on the counter nervously, trying to figure out a way to mollify his mother. It would be worse if she found out he wasn't just helping the office, but Burt Hummel's son directly.

"Please don't freak out," he said, almost begged as he looked at his mother straight in the eyes. "I promise it's not that bad."

She looked nonplussed, but she gestured wordlessly for Blaine to explain.

"Remember I went to the protest the other week?"

She raised a brow at him. "When you said that was the farthest thing you'd do, politics-wise?"

Blaine nodded sheepishly. Well, he didn't exactly keep his word. "Wes introduced me to Burt Hummel's family."

She straightened her back. "He didn't."

"He did," Blaine insisted, licking lips anxiously. "I met Kurt Hummel that day and we got to talking and—"

"Oh my god. Oh my god, no," she exclaimed, looking on the verge of hysteria as she tried to deny it. "You've been hanging out with Kurt Hummel, haven't you? You've been taking those long drives with him whenever you're out of the house," she surmised. "Blaine!"

"I'm not sorry," he said hurriedly. "I mean, I'm sorry it's making you worry and that I didn't tell you, but I'm not sorry I've been doing it."

"You could be killed! That Hummel kid is a moving target and if you're caught with him you could be—"

"Mom, it's completely fine, I promise."

"Where in hell's name has he been taking you?"

Blaine shrugged. "I'm actually the one taking him to places," he admitted. "He's been trying to talk to people who knew his dad, some sort of emotional cleansing or whatever, but it's completely personal. It has nothing to do with politics or the media or—"

"The media has been hounding this case since Burt Hummel died. If you're seen with him, you could be dead in an instant."

"Mom, it's not like that," he reasoned, trying to get his mother to understand. "Kurt is... He's really nice, and I like spending time with him, and I'm not gonna give that up just because it's dangerous. I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself. And Kurt's brother is extremely protective so we're safe, I promise."

She sighed in exasperation, looking mildly disappointed but a lot concerned. "Helping Wes out would have been better than helping Kurt Hummel out. I have nothing against that boy, but I hate that it can come at the expense of your safety."

Blaine paused and smiled despite himself. "I think you'll like him," he said quietly. "He's so... Effervescent, even if he's lonely."

She looked up at that, Blaine's tone soft and almost awed. "You like him."

"Wes said the same thing," Blaine said with a self-deprecating smile.

"Just," she sighed again, reaching across and cupping Blaine's cheek lovingly. "Be carefully, baby, please. Promise me."

"I promise," he said, smiling briefly before he picked his spoon up again and took a bite of his cereal.

* * *

Finn shuffled the papers in his hands and sat behind his desk, watching as Wes, Jeff, Nick and Kurt sat scattered across his office. The air was tensed even if there was slight hope lingering in the air.

"So, we have a name."

Kurt huffed out a breath. "A name?"

"We ran the surveillance video on the police files," Wes explained. "And we have a name."

"Do we have a person?" Kurt asked, brow raised. _No_, he reminded himself. He wasn't going to get down at them for something that seemed laughable because they were doing all that they can. And however small the progress, it was progress, a step in moving forward.

Finn licked his lips. "No," he said to Kurt, "but we're looking, and we're going in the right direction."

"There's media pressure all over," Jeff commented, "and we've posted the name and picture of the guy so it's only a matter of time before we find him."

"Benefits of a high profile case," Nick winked in Kurt's direction.

Kurt sighed, running a hand through his hair, kept without much product for the day. "That's good I guess. Thank you for working so hard."

Finn nodded. He turned to Kurt and hesitated slightly. "Kurt, we're about to reach a boiling point here."

"With the name and face of this man on television, we're so close. It's now a matter of security for you and for your family from here on," Jeff explained to him.

"Security," Kurt parroted dumbly, shaking his head as if trying to grasp so many things at the same time. First, the identification of the man who pulled the trigger, next the release of this man's identity to the public and increased media pressure on him, on the case, on the family, and finally a matter of keeping himself and his family safe through the process.

Finn nodded again. "Kurt, your outings with Blaine—"

"I'm not going to stop those," Kurt interrupted, knowing full well what Finn was about to suggest. "We've been on at least five trips together and it's been helping me a lot, and I'm telling you now that I'm not going to give those up."

"Kurt, you must understand that you're not just putting yourself in danger. It's Blaine's safety as well," Wes said.

"Kurt," Finn tried to reason, trying to appeal to Kurt as a brother and not as some stranger helping him find his dad's killer, "I know you've been taking this really hard, and that you're really sad and stuff, and yeah, Blaine's really helped you through it and you're dealing with it better, but I don't want you getting killed out there or whatever."

"Don't be stupid Finn," Kurt said, almost muttered that it lost its vehemence. "I won't get killed. What Blaine and I do is totally safe."

"I know that," Finn insisted, "but right now it isn't. Look, I've seen the way these visits have helped you in the past weeks, and I hate that I'm even suggesting you to stop. But I'd rather not lose you, you know?"

Nick and Jeff looked at each other and Finn tried reasoning with Kurt. Argumentum ad misericordiam, but it seemed to be working as Kurt squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Finn liked to pull that card a lot and it was unnerving.

Wes sighed inwardly. He knew these visits weren't only benefitting Kurt, but Blaine as well. It gave Blaine a sense of purpose, and now more than ever, he needed that. He needed to feel less useless and worth more, and Kurt was giving him that. It was give and take. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Blaine liked Kurt. And if Kurt's reaction was any indication, Kurt was feeling the same too.

"May I make a suggestion?" Wes said, almost reflective of his time in the Warbler council.

Finn and Kurt turned to him warily.

"Maybe we can assign a bodyguard?" he proposed carefully. "I know you were against it before, but it could be some sort of compromise?"

Finn seemed to consider the suggestion as he turned his gaze back to Kurt. "I think that's a good idea."

Kurt licked his lips and shrugged. "Can I think about it?"

As Finn was about to speak, Wes laid a hand on his arm to stop him. "Let him think about it," he said to Finn, knowing it wasn't wise to push the issue while Kurt was overwhelmed.

xxx

Three days later found Kurt and Blaine leaving the home of a man by the name of Arthur Jenkins who had recently come out to his father following Burt Hummel's death. Arthur said he didn't have the courage to come out to his family until Burt died, saying Burt and his story had inspired him to come into terms with himself, with his sexuality, and later embrace it. Long story short, Kurt once again found himself in tears.

Kurt's old Navigator was being trailed by an inconspicuous blue car housing two bodyguards Finn had insisted on. Kurt wasn't happy about it, but if it would get them to continue the outings, he was willing to compromise.

"It's late," Blaine noted, looking out the window as they drove through the highway.

Kurt nodded, eyes fixed on the road. "It is. I'm sorry I kept you out so late, I didn't expect to speak to him for so long."

"Don't worry about it, it's not like I have anything else to do," Blaine answered as he turned to Kurt and offered him a kind smile.

Blaine was breathtaking. His hazel eyes were soulful, and his smile was always so honest and sincere that it made Kurt tingle a little. He was fighting it, fighting the feelings, knowing he was nowhere near ready to start a relationship with anyone, least of all someone he met through his father's demise, but he took comfort in Blaine's easy, earnest company.

Kurt returned the smile. "Are you up for dinner? I'm buying. It's the least I can do for keeping you."

"If you insist," Blaine grinned.

"I do insist," Kurt teased before he signaled to exit the highway. He drove to the closest IHOP, parked and alighted, then got them seated in a booth out back. The body guards were sitting in a table of their own a little ways from them, granting them privacy as they ordered and dined.

"So," Blaine started, looking directly at Kurt. His body was turned towards Kurt, gravitating naturally towards the man.

Kurt chuckled, not wanting the air between them to turn awkward. "So…" He paused, looking to Blaine. "I feel like you know so much about me and I know so little about you."

Blaine's brow raised in surprise. "That's not true," he insisted lightly. "You know I went to Dalton and I was bullied. You know that I live in California and that I'm a school teacher."

Kurt nodded. "That's true. I also know you wanted to be a musician and that your parents divorced when you were fourteen, and he left. You live with your mom now, and she drives an old Chevy. You boarded at Dalton all through high school to get away from stupid Lima. I know you have an affinity for sweater vests and bow ties and that you gel your hair compulsively. I know all these things, Blaine."

"So what's the problem?" he asked, laughing at Kurt's pout.

Kurt shrugged in response. He knew he didn't like it when people pried in his business, and he was adamant about allowing Blaine to share only the things he wanted to. But he was filled with a desperate need to get to know him, to see parts of him he'd never shown and hopefully, eventually, grow closer to him.

"You know I'm emotional," Kurt said. "That family is the most important thing to me. That I'm fiercely protective of my brother and that I like to visit my mom's grave... Now my dad's grave too when I'm feeling unhinged. You know that David Karofsky bullied me then stole my first kiss so now I can't eat a cheeseburger to save my life. I've told you a lot about myself and let myself show you so much. I'm not saying it's a favor you need to return, but I don't know... I want to know you more, I guess. Is that so bad?"

Blaine considered this, feeling his toes freeze a little at the thought of telling Kurt about his father. Now would be the best time, obviously. Kurt was open and willing to listen. But he was very reticent about that part, and he wanted, no, _needed_Kurt to see the best in him. He liked Kurt, there was no use denying that anymore, and he wanted Kurt to see everything that was likable about him. As far as he was concerned, his father was not a positive attribute, especially not one that would endear him to Kurt.

"Not bad at all," Blaine said before he cleared his throat and grinned. "What do you want to know?"

Kurt raised a questioning brow at him. "Is this an ask and you shall receive kind of thing?" Honestly, Kurt would be happy with anything Blaine felt he could share. It didn't have to be elaborate.

Blaine shrugged. "If you want it to be," he said as the waitress set a plate of fries and their drinks in front of them. Blaine popped a fry into his mouth and looked at Kurt expectantly.

"Okay," Kurt answered slowly, frowning. "Just... Start small with me. What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," he answered immediately, avoiding Kurt's eyes all together for fear of Kurt catching on. Kurt's eyes were blue, very beautifully blue, like an expanse of deep and endless ocean he wanted to get lost in.

Kurt hummed thoughtfully, popping a fry into his mouth. "Your favorite book?"

"The Great Gatsby," Blaine smiled immediately. "Made my toes curl while reading, and F. Scott Fitzgerald has such a beautiful way with words."

"I agree," Kurt said, nodding. "I am impartial to anything by the man myself."

Blaine smiled at him, watching Kurt chew his fries with a look resembling awe. When Kurt had his defenses down, whenever he had moments he briefly forgot about his life's heartaches, Kurt was the most natural being. He was comfortable and relaxed, and he moved with a kind of grace that made him more beautiful in Blaine's eyes.

Kurt, unaware of the way Blaine's thoughts were going, cleared his throat and grinned. "Favorite sex position," he declared without preamble.

Blaine immediately blushed, and he fought the urge to cover his face with his hands. He wasn't a prude, not by a long shot, but the question wasn't something he was expecting. He almost felt like there was a correct answer to it, considering he was trying to get on Kurt's good side.

"Um... It depends, I guess?" he almost mumbled meekly, his cheeks red as he looked at Kurt.

Kurt raised a skeptical brow at him. "Well, what you're in the mood for will depend, but I think your favorite position stands no matter what."

The blush on Blaine's cheeks deepened and he had to take a sip of his Coke to keep him from freaking out. "Well, since you seem to think you're right, what's _your_favorite sex position?" Blaine countered.

"I like to bottom," Kurt said with a shrug, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was only vaguely surprising that Kurt was speaking so openly about sex. He used to be the biggest prude. But it was a nice icebreaker, and it was terribly amusing to catch Blaine off guard. Never mind that he was subconsciously piecing together a relationship with Blaine in his head. "Do you take it up in the ass too, Blaine?"

Being a bottom, being open and vulnerable in that way was inherently pulchritudinous. There was something about trusting someone with the most intimate parts of you that made Kurt feel like sex was less physical and more emotional. It was less sex, and more love, even if it was hard and fast and rough.

Blaine almost sputtered at how crude Kurt sounded before he decided to find the humor in the situation and chuckled. "No, I like to top," he said in all honesty. "From the bottom."

"Riding then," Kurt said with a chuckle, more to himself than to Blaine. Blaine was adorable, and absolutely captivating. His smile always lit up the room, and Kurt couldn't help but think that he had become some sort of vessel, some sort of savior who rescued him from his despair and breathed life back into him. It sounded so righteous, so sentimental, and entirely incongruous with the pain that left his heart raw after his father's death. But it was real, as real as anything could be after all the cynicism Kurt imbibed. Blaine was real, an embodiment of hope, and vulnerable as Kurt was, it made him feel like Blaine would make everything all right in the world.

With a thoughtful smile, Kurt decided he wanted to talk about something a little more personal. He didn't want to pry, and he wasn't going to push Blaine into telling him things he wasn't willing to talk about, but he needed Blaine to trust him, to put the same amount of confidence he had in him because something told him Blaine was just as broken as he was. He was in no position to start fixing him by any means, not with his own issues, but he wanted to be there for Blaine the way Blaine was there for him. If his own feelings for the man were evolving, then, well, he'd let time and nature dictate how that would go. He was beyond actively doing anything as it seemed like a big slap on the face to his father. But he wanted to get to know Blaine, as intimately as possible given the circumstances.

The waitress returned with their food, and as they settled to take a bite, Kurt started.

"What do you do in California, Blaine?"

"I'm a music teacher, I told you," he said. "It's why I can afford to be away for so long. Summer break and all."

Kurt nodded thoughtfully. He could totally picture Blaine as a music teacher. "Do you sing?"

"I was with the Warblers, remember? I told you about this. I was the lead soloist," Blaine said laughingly. He never pegged Kurt to be the repetitive, forgetful type.

"Of course," Kurt responded. "How could I forget? Silly me, you had me stroking your ego by the time that conversation was over," he deadpanned.

Blaine laughed heartily. "You were very impressed by my singing, admit it. And the fact that I could play a ton of instruments."

"You're a music teacher, Blaine. I would expect you to play at least a couple of instruments or else you'd be a sham of a music teacher."

Blaine smiled at him fondly before taking a bite of his pancakes. "My profession is so much more noble than my brother's so you could keep stroking my ego," he winked.

"Why, what does your brother do?"

"He's an actor. He hasn't gotten his big break yet, but he's been at it a while."

It was Kurt's turn to smile. "You get along well with him?"

Blaine shrugged, not noticing that they were slowly entering dangerous territory. Kurt was maneuvering them unknowingly, getting Blaine comfortable so he could start sharing some of the more mysterious things about himself. Blaine was such an enigma to Kurt, and he couldn't help the curiosity and the magnetic pull that drawing him into wanting desperately to know Blaine Anderson.

"He's ten years older than me so we didn't always see eye to eye. But he was with me through some difficult times."

"Like coming out?" he asked curiously.

Blaine nodded. "Coming out, getting beaten up within an inch of my life, my parents' divorce, transferring to Dalton, my first break-up, college— everything. Cooper's been great." He almost mentioned the ordeal of changing his last name, dropping Hamilton and taking his mother's family name, but caught himself in time. There were things he thought Kurt wasn't ready to know. He wasn't trying to be devious, wasn't plotting anything. He had the purest intentions. He just really didn't want to elaborate on it yet. And if he were truly honest with himself, he was scared— scared of what Kurt might think and how it would affect their relationship. There was the very distinct possibility that Kurt wouldn't be able to accept him for it.

Kurt had come to mean a lot to him. In just a few short weeks, his feelings had evolved from platonic admiration to needing to see and hear Kurt and be with him in any way possible. He craved for his company, and he started to picture a future, where in a perfect world, Kurt wouldn't care that he was the son of the man who very plausibly killed his father. Kurt was valuable to Blaine as more than a friend now, and he needed Kurt to see him as who he was inherently and not who he was because of someone else.

Kurt was quiet for a moment. "You got beat up?" he asked softly.

Blaine shrugged. "Sadie Hawkins. You're very forgetful, Kurt. Didn't I tell you about getting bullied and transferring to Dalton specifically for the policy?"

Kurt frowned. He was sure Blaine didn't mention getting beaten up within an inch of his life; he would have remembered that detail for sure. But he wasn't going to argue the fact over. "It's just... Really hard to imagine," he said quietly, feeling very timid. He got shoved in lockers and thrown into dumpsters all through high school, and he felt like that was too much. He couldn't imagine having broken bones and bleeding wounds on top of that.

"Three guys beat me and my date up in the parking lot. I had two broken ribs, a concussion, and we weren't found until a couple of hours later, by which time I was hypothermic. Definitely didn't win me any points with my dad," he said, unable to help the slight bitterness in his tone. In retrospect, he should have been more careful about mentioning his father, but something about Kurt wanted him to be open, made him bite his tongue less in favor of sharing some of the more intimate details of his life. He was aware that Kurt wanted to know him the same way he wanted to know Kurt. He was aware that Kurt's emotions were evolving but he was keeping a respectable distance because they couldn't afford to rush into anything. Everything was happening fast—too fast, and they would crash and burn if they didn't tread carefully.

"Do you... Do you know where your dad is now? Do any of you keep in contact with him?"

Blaine stared at Kurt, and wondered again if it was the right time to tell him, wondered how receptive Kurt would be. But decided against it. Like the coward he was. They were walking on egg shells now, walking on thin ice as cautiously that a thoughtless action could upset the precarious balance they had.

"I haven't seen or spoken to him since I transferred," he said, trying to stay as close to the truth as possible. "My mom occasionally does, like when some of his mail still gets sent to the house, but we lead separate lives." He tried to stay as honest. None of what he'd said wasn't true. He just decided to conveniently omit mentioning that he kept up to date with his dad's life because he was a public figure, and one of severe interest to Kurt at that.

"Well... I mean, it's sad that he couldn't have been more supportive, but I'm glad you aren't around such poison constantly," Kurt replied softly. He looked up and held Blaine's gaze, his hazel eyes reflecting sadness and bitterness and deep anger Kurt could only attribute to his father. But his eyes were also a pool of hate now, something Kurt was sure wasn't entirely because of his father leaving, and it made Kurt's heart ache. Blaine was gentle and funny and absolutely wonderful. Everything he did was magical, and he endeared people to him through his every move. It was hard not to like him, hard not to love him or see him in anything but a positive light.

"That poison would have eaten my family, Kurt," Blaine said sadly, holding Kurt's searching gaze. "But I'm fine now. You don't have to worry about me."

Blaine saw the wheels turning in Kurt's head, saw the affection in his blue eyes, and it made his heart swell. He didn't want Kurt to worry about him, but seeing Kurt so concerned, reading him like a book and wanting desperately to fix what was broken made hope blossom in his chest. It took every amount of self-control not to pull out of his seat and hold Kurt close to him. He didn't understand how he could feel so much in a matter of three short weeks, how he could find himself developing some strong feelings for someone he had only known for a short amount of time, but right now, it didn't matter.

Kurt's lip turned upward a little at that. "You're not just anyone to me anymore, Blaine. I'll always worry about you from now on." Because no matter if he was developing inappropriate feelings for Blaine or not, Blaine was first and foremost his friend, someone who helped him through a very difficult time unwaveringly. And for that alone, he was forever indebted.

* * *

After dinner, Kurt dismissed the bodyguards and drove Blaine home unescorted. The silence between them was thoughtful, both lost in thought until Kurt pulled up in front of Blaine's home a little past midnight.

"Would you like to come inside for coffee?" Blaine offered quietly, turning his head to look at Kurt after the car had halted. His seatbelt was still intact, and he ignored how his mother would most likely disapprove of bringing Kurt Hummel into their home.

Kurt shook his head, smiling amiably at Blaine. "I don't want to impose, and we've been out later than usual."

"You won't be imposing," Blaine insisted, finding himself not wanting to end the night yet. "Just a mug of coffee, so you don't fall asleep on the wheel."

Kurt chuckled and turned to face Blaine with an amused expression. "I live ten minutes away from you, Blaine Anderson. I don't think it's likely that I fall asleep in a matter of ten minutes."

"People fall asleep on the wheel all the time," he argued. "They run red lights and get hit by ten wheelers and die. I don't want you to die."

"I won't die," Kurt said on a laugh. "I can't have coffee anymore or else I won't be able to fall asleep when I get home."

"Juice then? Or water? Please, I just... Kind of don't want to say goodbye yet," he said sheepishly. Okay, so maybe it was really wrong because he was blatantly flirting right now despite everything he had told himself about keeping his distance from Kurt Hummel. Not only would his mother disapprove passionately, but Kurt wasn't ready and he didn't need to take advantage of Kurt's vulnerability. But he was selfish tonight, and he really didn't want to let go of Kurt yet. They seemed closer now, seemed like they had reached a different level in the odd relationship they had, and Blaine wanted to live in that night for as long as he could.

Kurt looked surprised for a moment before he offered Blaine a small smile. He unbuckled his seatbelt and shrugged. "Come look at the stars with me, Blaine," he said, before he stepped out of the car and walked to Blaine's front lawn. Unexpectedly, he lay down on the grass and folded his hands on his stomach, aware of Blaine's confused expression as he alighted from the car.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked, standing by the Kurt's feet and looking at Kurt in bewilderment.

Kurt kept his eyes on the sky, quiet for a moment before he spoke, his voice quiet. "I hated Lima a lot, Blaine. The only thing I liked about how far away we are from civilization is that pollution is kept to a wonderful minimum, and the stars are clear every night."

Blaine quietly lay down beside Kurt and mimicked his position, finding himself staring up at the sky and appreciating the twinkling stars. "There's something poetic about a sky full of stars," Blaine agreed thoughtfully.

Kurt hummed in response. "My mom and dad used to take me camping before. We'd pitch a tent on a clearing and go stargazing after we'd roasted marshmallows. It was practically the only thing I enjoyed about being out in nature. The stars remind me of them, and when my mom died, I used to think it was her watching over me and my dad."

"Now they're both watching you. You'll never be without them, Kurt."

They were quiet for a few moments, both enjoying the silence and the warmth of the other's body to close to his own. It was comforting, tangible comfort in the most larval stages, but it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"I've only ever had one serious boyfriend," Blaine said after a while, his voice soft in the stillness of the night. "He'd always had it easy. He grew up in San Francisco and nobody cared that he was gay. He never got the whole bullying thing."

Kurt hummed thoughtfully. "It's a wonder even to me that there are people like us who don't know that kind of animosity exists. I mean, I'm happy they never had to face it but you'd expect them to be sympathetic."

"Yeah, my ex boyfriend wasn't very sympathetic. A lot of who I am is because I was gay— from being bullied in school, to my father's displeasure, to Dalton Academy. It practically shaped me, and he never got that."

Blaine liked to think he wasn't defined by his sexuality—that he was so much more than his sexual preference. But he didn't like to discount the fact that a lot of his strength came from fighting much animosity from being gay.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Blaine insisted quietly. "He was cold, didn't understand a lot of things about me, and in the end, we didn't work out because of it."

"Well, he didn't deserve you," Kurt concluded. "You were vastly under-appreciated."

Blaine chuckled at that. "He said I was far too sentimental for him. Everything had to mean something. He was the... Casual sex kind of guy, I guess. Didn't believe in long term relationships. We were so different, god," he said, sounding like he had just realized the fact for the first time. He and Sebastian were never compatible from the start, but he had been drawn to his easy charm and confidence, didn't know any better, didn't know he'd undermine the things that made him essentially Blaine.

"It's trial and error, I suppose," Kurt said, eyes kept on the night sky. "Finding the right person." It was difficult to picture Blaine, soulful Blaine, with someone who didn't appreciate him.

"It's also about timing. It happens at the perfect time. I think it happens whether we're ready or not, or whether it's convenient or not."

"What does?"

"Love does," Blaine answered quietly. Okay, so maybe love was too big a word, but he had no doubt in his head that he heading that way.

That made Kurt pause. He knew that, of course. But somehow it felt like too much to hear right now. "Right," he said, his voice hoarse.

"The right person comes at the right time, and we're powerless against that."

"Blaine..."

"I don't believe in God. But I believe in fate. I think that if the universe thinks two people are meant to be together, it happens. It just happens, even if it's inconvenient, even if at some point they get separated, they'll always come back to each other."

Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine's profile. "You believe that?"

He nodded. "No matter who we are or what we are, if it's fate, it'll happen."

Turning his head back to the sky, Kurt heaved a sigh and then moved to stand up. "I really need to get going, Blaine," he said, feeling tired, weighed down by everything currently happening in his life. It was beginning to be too much for him to handle.

Blaine sat up, looking at Kurt in slight alarm. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," Kurt answered hurriedly, flashing him a nervous smile and walking to his car before Blaine could stand up properly. "Thank you for today, Blaine. Really. I'm sorry for keeping you so late. But I'll... I'll call you? Or you'll call me? Let me know if there are other people—"

"Kurt—"

"Thank you," Kurt said with a bit of finality. He smiled at Blaine, injecting as much warmth as he could and walked to the door of his car. "Good night, Blaine."

"Good night, Kurt," he murmured, still looking confused as Kurt drove away into the night.

Blaine stared at the fading headlights and sighed. Their relationship had shifted on its axis tonight, and he wasn't sure if it was for the best. It was premature. Things were moving too fast, too much for both of them to catch up on. But he couldn't deny the way his heart ached at seeing Kurt walk away from him tonight, and the longing to gather him in his arms and love him.

* * *

Okay. There. =) Let me know what you think please? :)


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